CHAPTER 822: CHAPTER 822: REINFORCEMENTS ON THE WAY

"Boom——!!"

Scorching lava soared into the sky, while the rising smoke and grit scattered over hundreds of meters.

In the distance, the dunes had been flattened into a plain, leaving only rings of spreading ripples.

This was the training ground in the north of Evernight Harbor.

And that terrifying explosion just now was the handiwork of the 902mm heavy artillery!

As the proud symbol of strength for the Southern Legion, this heavy cannon reportedly displayed great might in the "War at Heaven"... however, those truly in the know understand that it only made a brief appearance before entering Haiye Province.

After all, the mobility of the heavy artillery was too fatal; only trains could carry it and its shells.

And it wasn’t until the end of the War at Heaven that the alliance’s railways and highways crossed Ten Peaks Mountain.

With his palm covering his glass, General McCullen, who was sitting in the observation stand at the training ground, watched the advancing servant army with an indifferent look.

It was only after the rolling dust settled that he moved his palm away from the glass and serenely took a sip of wine.

Both the combat style and governance philosophy of the Southern Legion are distinctly different from the Eastern Legion; they rely too heavily on caliber and infantry, completely ignoring mobility.

The Eastern Legion, on the other hand, is quite the opposite; the steel torrent is their faith, whether in the air or on the ground!

For this reason, he wasn’t very interested in such logistical "toys."

Even though its power is indeed formidable, it’s useless on the plains controlled by the Eastern Legion; no Looter Tribe or Resistance would foolishly wait to get shelled.

Those guys, even if daft, know to shoot once and move elsewhere.

Unlike his lack of interest, Centurion Olet, sitting beside him, was excited and proud, with a radiant smile on his face.

"Nothing can withstand a strike from the 902! Especially when dealing with mutants, this thing is even more effective than tactical nuclear weapons!"

Mutant creatures have a certain resistance to radiation; things like Crack Claw Crab or Dead Claw might even make their nests near radiation sources.

Mutants can be considered a type of artificially mutated creature; pure radioactive harm isn’t entirely ineffective against them, but it definitely doesn’t outpace their recovery speed.

For this reason, at the same yield, high-velocity explosives are often more efficient than nuclear weapons.

And they are easier to handle afterward.

Listening to this starry-eyed Centurion’s bragging, McCullen smiled faintly and said indifferently.

"Even the ’Gray People’ in the Great Desert have started building fortresses?"

Olet paused before replying with a smile.

"Not quite... but they have learned to build villages like those Looter Tribes. I’ve even heard some intelligent mutant tribes are doing business with human merchants."

He thought McCullen should be familiar with this; mutant mercenaries did appear during the war in Luo Xia Province, even if not in large numbers.

The origin of mutants in the Great Desert is different from those on the East Coast; although both are similarly bloodthirsty and brutal, the latter has slightly more civilization.

The Southern Legion also employs a few mutant mercenaries, whom they call "Gray Soldiers."

However, for most uncooperative gray mutant tribes, the Southern Legion still mainly focuses on eradication. After all, these guys constantly raid around, affecting trade between their colonies and native tribes in the Great Desert.

And those Gray mercenaries have no qualms about slaughtering their kin.

After all, essentially, they are still unintelligent primitive men, merely having learned to use human weapons.

Ignoring the explanation from this fellow, McCullen said dismissively.

"Isn’t using something like this akin to using a cannon against mosquitoes? Or do mutants have something like morale? In my view, it would be better to get a few more 100mm artillery; not only would it cover a broader area, but logistics pressure would also be lighter."

Upon hearing this criticism, Olet’s eyebrows twitched hard, unable to resist a sarcastic retort.

"Though you say that, we have never fought beyond the reach of our supply ships, so there’s inherently no issue with frontline units running out of supplies. Why bother with so much land? It’s all ruins here; the last thing we lack is mud and sand. Is the glory of the Weilante people manifested through coloring a map?"

Noticing the snark in his voice, McCullen’s eyebrows twitched hard, and his face suddenly fell.

"What do you mean?"

Seeing McCullen’s displeased expression, Olet quickly changed the subject.

He had no choice; a higher rank crushes the lower one, even if this guy is in decline.

"Cough, I mean no offense, esteemed General McCullen... back to the topic, though those gray-skinned wild men haven’t built solid concrete fortresses, they have indeed become more troublesome lately."

McCullen faintly frowned.

"In what way?"

Olet mysteriously lowered his voice.

"Undying..."

"Undying?!" McCullen’s eyes opened slightly, disbelief written in his pupils.

Seeing the expression on his face, Olet quickly explained.

"Of course, not truly immortal... but, even if their head and heart are damaged, they can still fight. Only when their body’s functions are entirely destroyed will they truly fall."

McCullen contemplated for a moment, then thoughtfully spoke.

"...This sounds somewhat similar to the situation on Ten Peaks Mountain."

Though he had been training new troops and officers for the Empire recently, he wasn’t completely unaware of the "War at Heaven" battle situation.

Especially after the opening of the West Sail Port post office, telecommunication was now available with Triumph City.

In the future, once cables are laid from Evernight Harbor, instant communication would even be feasible.

After hearing McCullen’s words, Olet stroked his chin.

"Hmm... indeed. I’ve seen in ’Triumph Newspaper’ that there’s something called ’Ghoul mutation,’ right? It supposedly means memories can be stored in distributed neurons throughout the body, so even if a head is lost, it can regrow, seemingly discovered by the alliance."

McCullen asked puzzled.

"How could this thing appear in the Great Desert? Did some mutants escape to the Great Desert?"

Olet shrugged.

"Who knows, maybe the remnants of Torch fled inside... after all, people can hide easier than mutants."

Upon hearing this, McCullen’s face immediately showed an intrigued expression.

"This is quite valuable intelligence... Have you had someone verify it?"

"I’m actually working on this..." Olet smiled and suddenly became serious, "General McCullen, don’t you think this is an opportunity?"

Not waiting for McCullen’s detailed inquiry, he soldiered on.

"The Sticky Community refuses to hand over the ’Perfect Life Form’ technology. No matter how much you argue at the conference table, it’s useless. They fundamentally fear us Weilante people... We actually don’t need them. As long as we can seize that fugitive in the Great Desert, we will get what we want."

The Perfect Life Form technology holds extraordinary significance for the Weilante people.

Because the latter was indeed born from the former.

The Weilante people always believe that some kind of "shackle" exists within their DNA, still enslaving them.

And to fully unlock this shackle, the "Perfect Life Form" technology must be thoroughly conquered.

Hence, even if one disregards the military value of this technology itself, there is sufficient political motivation pushing them to do this.

General McCullen’s eyes slightly narrowed, revealing an interested color through his lashes.

"This sounds interesting... I’ll have the Eastern Legion over there pay attention."

The Eastern Legion’s eastern territories border the Great Desert’s north and a small part of the northwest regions, while the vassal country stretches to the east of the Great Desert’s Luo Xia Province.

If the Eastern Legion and Southern Legion unite, they could envelop the entire Great Desert.

In contrast, the alliance only has Pioneer City established in the eastern part of the Great Desert.

Upon hearing General McCullen’s promise, Olet immediately showed a pleased smile.

"That would be fantastic; with your help, this matter will be far more secure."

"I hope there will be some harvest... After all, it’s the longing of all Vellante people."

McCullen smiled faintly and took a sip of red wine.

At this moment, the drills in the distance were coming to an end, and the local soldiers carrying rifles were withdrawing from the craters.

Otley was beaming with a radiant smile, suddenly remembering something, he continued.

"By the way, speaking of which, are you interested in buying a 902mm heavy artillery to take back and play with?"

McCullen calmly refused.

"No need for it, this thing would crush the road we’ve painstakingly repaired."

Seeing he misunderstood his intention, Otley hastily waved his hand and said.

"No, no, no, I meant sell it to the West Winds... Aren’t they troubled by the Mammoth State to the east? With this thing, regardless of what kind of fortress, just one shot—"

Before he could finish his sentence, an officer suddenly came jogging over, stopped in front of him, and saluted.

"Report, General, a distress message has been sent from the direction of West Sail Port, claiming a very tricky rebellion! The situation is urgent!"

Otley was stunned for a moment, showing a surprised expression, but even more surprised was McCullen sitting beside him, who nearly stood up, gripping the armrests of his chair.

"West Sail Port? Rebellion?"

Those cowardly, rat-like guys, they have the ability for this?!

No one knows better than McCullen how compliant the people there are to their superiors.

The "human centipede" he saw wasn’t just in the palace of Witch Camel but spread across the entire power structure of the Empire, transmitting from top to bottom.

To please their superiors, they spare no dignity, trampling their personalities into the dust, betraying vows, beliefs, souls, and even sacred marriages, reassuring themselves with the thought that it’s all for benefit, and then mercilessly reclaiming what they owe from those weaker than them.

Vellante people don’t always keep their word, but at least some things are non-negotiable.

The idea of such people rebelling is simply absurd!

The officer swiftly glanced at General McCullen, then looked at his superior, Otley. Seeing the latter nod, he quickly said.

"Correct... The locals seized the opportunity when Governor Hue and his personal guard were away to loot the munitions warehouse in the port district. Now, more than 3000 Vellante residents living there are in danger, and both the local police station and governor’s mansion have sent distress signals, hoping we send troops and ships to aid and assist the evacuation of local Vellante people immediately."

Otley frowned.

"How soon can we get there at the fastest?"

The officer immediately responded.

"Three days should be enough!"

After pondering for a moment, Otley tapped his knee with his index finger and quickly made a decision.

"Let General Ross take a thousand team over there."

Since West Sail Port isn’t seeking help from the Empire, but rather appealing to Evernight Harbor instead, it indicates the situation is extraordinarily urgent.

It’s precisely for this reason that he didn’t hesitate to dispatch his most excellent commander.

"Yes!"

The officer’s demeanor became solemn, standing upright to salute, preparing to leave. But General McCullen, seated, called out to him.

"Wait a moment, I’ll go along too." Lowering the boot propped on his knee, McCullen got up from the chair, picked up the officer’s hat left on the table, and put it on.

Sitting beside him, Otley was momentarily stunned, surprised as he looked up at him.

"Aren’t you returning to Triumph City?"

Unconcernedly, McCullen said.

"Whether I return or not makes no difference, anyway, I have nothing to triumph over. I won’t go back this year... Don’t worry, I’ll just observe, and won’t interfere with your command."

He was merely intrigued by how the rebellion of those rats would appear.

Seeing his subordinate looking to him for a decision, Otley hesitated for half a second before finally nodding.

"Alright... Then I entrust you to oversee the battle."

McCullen nodded, didn’t say a word, and followed the officer out...

...

Near the port of Evernight Harbor, inside a serene and elegantly decorated residence, Penny, sitting at a desk, was sealing a freshly written letter into an envelope.

This was her uncle’s home, and due to the lack of a return ship to Triumph City, she could only continue staying here, and, at leisure, felt inclined to write some letters.

There were two letters to send, both addressed to City of Dawn.

One was written to her father, Centurion Bennott, and the other was to Mr. Pangolin.

Since he followed her father to City of Dawn, they hadn’t seen each other for some time.

Wondering how he was faring.

Penny glanced at the gradually setting sun outside the window, placing the two letters she held into the drawer.

The post office should have closed by now, she planned to go herself tomorrow morning to send the letters, and check if there were any ships back home at the port.

At this time, her aunt’s voice came from downstairs.

"Penny, dinner’s ready."

"Oh! Coming."

Penny responded, tidied the papers and pen on the desk, then hurried downstairs.

As she came downstairs, her aunt Dimi was already seated at the dining table, along with her youngest cousin—6-year-old Bill.

Speaking of her aunt Dimi, she’s a very traditional Vellante woman.

Both her elegant and gentle character and her lush deep brown hair and prominent nose.

Penny enjoyed talking with her, although she didn’t always agree with her viewpoints, the pure Triumph City accent sounded pleasant, like a warm breeze.

With slightly darker skin, the maid was serving the dishes onto the table.

Seeing Penny descend the staircase, she nodded slightly in greeting, then went to the side room for her meal.

Compared to the Eastern Legion, the Southern Legion had relatively lenient attitudes towards slaves, while the civil official nobles from Triumph City often brought the traditions of Triumph City to the colonies.

Her uncle Ross served in the Southern Legion, but being from the civil official group, his family had a milder attitude towards servants.

In Triumph City, tormenting slaves was neither legal nor dignified, and most civil official nobles took pride in having a servant familiar with aristocratic etiquette and literary knowledge.

Sitting at the dining table, Penny noticed Uncle Ross wasn’t present, so she looked at Aunt Dimi.

"Where’s Uncle? Isn’t he dining with us today?"

Dimi gently shook her head, showing a helpless expression.

"He might still be busy with work... I heard lately the mutants in the Great Desert have been active again, some tribes that are on good terms with us have sent distress signals."

Those beasts...

Penny frowned.

"Will there be any major issues?"

Seeing the concern on her niece’s face, Dimi smiled warmly, comforting her.

"What could possibly go wrong? We have a ten thousand troop stationed here... Instead, I’m more worried about you, my Penny."

Mentioning this, her face involuntarily showed a trace of worry.

"I’ve heard Poluo Province isn’t safe, wars are rampant there, and we coincidentally have no garrison there. I really don’t know how Hue manages so many people. If possible, after you return home, try finding a way to transfer back to Triumph City, or come to us."

Penny couldn’t help but show a helpless expression, her aunt’s words were akin to her mother’s.

However, she didn’t think West Sail Port was dangerous; quite a few Vellante people lived there.

And she watched that port develop bit by bit from nothing.

As part of her father’s achievements, she was very proud of it.

"Poluo Province is very large. Actually, most states are safe, it’s just the eastern Mammoth State that’s more dangerous. And the people there have a very peaceful mindset, very courteous in dealing with others, especially outsiders... If you’ve really been there, you’ll know it’s not as bad as you think."

Looking at the stubborn niece, Dimi showed a helpless expression, not knowing how to persuade her.

Although Penny wasn’t her biological daughter, her mother was a good friend of hers, and she always treated this unique girl as her own.

Because of this, she was especially worried about her.

Although the "Triumph Newspaper" is the largest newspaper in the legion, and becoming a journalist for it is a very prestigious thing, she still hoped she could find a more stable job and marry into a reliable family.

"Is that so... But it’s always better to be cautious, you are still a girl, and war is men’s business."

"I’m not a child anymore, and... I don’t think it’s just a men’s business, it’s something for every Vellante person. We should know where our frontline is, who we are fighting against, and what victory or defeat means to us."

Penny snorted softly, not very pleased with her aunt’s words.

Even though she hadn’t fought against the enemy at the frontline, she had gone deep there for firsthand information.

Even if she didn’t have a military rank, she didn’t think her work wasn’t important.

At this moment, the sound of a door opening came from the hallway, and shortly after, a sturdy middle-aged man walked from the living room into the dining room.

That man was Penny’s uncle Ross, ranked as a general, serving under General Olet.

He had a deep scar on his face, and his eyes were sharp like knives, making him look intimidating, but Penny knew very well that he was actually a very polite gentleman, much more so than the rough barbarians of the Eastern Legion.

"Sorry, something came up with the army, I came back a bit late... Could you prepare me something?"

"Yes, sir."

Hearing the noise, the maid walked over from the side room, nodding respectfully, and then went into the kitchen.

Little Bill saw his dad come back and immediately called out with joy, "Dad!"

Ross walked forward with a smile, just about to fondly pat his son’s head, when Dimi, sitting by him, slapped his hand away.

"Go wash your hands, I can smell the sand from afar."

"Alright, alright." Ross scratched the back of his head with a wry smile and turned to the washroom.

Sitting by, Penny couldn’t help but chuckle, and only when her uncle returned to the table did she curiously inquire.

"What kept you so long? Can you tell me?"

Ross, sitting at the table, laughed heartily and said jokingly.

"The journalist from the Triumph Newspaper wants to know, and I certainly speak without reservation... Cough, don’t glare at me, I’m just joking with my niece."

Seeing his wife glaring at him, Ross shrank his neck and lightly coughed before putting on a serious face and continued.

"Something happened at West Sail Port."

Penny was taken aback, and her aunt sitting across from her was equally shocked, as they had just been discussing West Sail Port.

"West Sail Port?"

Ross nodded, taking a piece of bread and spreading some meat paste on it, eating as he spoke.

"Yes, the specifics are unclear. Some say the alliance incited local people to rebel, others say it was Laxi’s doing. Someone’s been tracking that batch of military supplies and it happened to have issues."

Dimi slightly frowned.

"That demon who slaughtered a million people?"

She had heard of this name, allegedly he executed a scorched-earth strategy at the state border of Mammoth State to block the Empire’s regular army, killing up to a million people.

Against his compatriots, showing such ruthlessness, she had no liking for this person.

Ross shrugged, quickly finishing another piece of bread, this time with tuna paste spread on it.

"Who knows, anyway, we have to go and find out the situation there... I came back to pack my luggage, a warship has already docked, and in two hours, I’ll be boarding."

Penny and Dimi were both stunned, almost instinctively speaking in unison.

"So urgent?"

"Leaving today?"

Ross nodded.

"Yes, I heard it’s urgent... We’ll be on the road for three days, it’s almost the birthday celebration, hopefully, nothing major happens."

Little Bill blinked and looked at him.

"Dad, can you come back before the birthday celebration?"

Ross fondly patted Little Bill’s head.

"...Don’t worry, such an important holiday, I certainly won’t leave you and your mother alone at home."

Dimi looked at Ross with concern, speaking seriously.

"You should focus on your work, don’t get distracted because of us. We have our lovely niece keeping us company... even if we can’t celebrate this year’s birthday together, there are still plenty of days ahead."

Penny looked at her aunt and said helplessly.

"Have you already assumed I won’t make it back in time for the flight?"

Dimi chuckled and said.

"If you return now, you probably won’t make it. Instead of spending the holiday on the ship, why not celebrate with us this year?"

If a ship could be available in the next three days, it was actually possible to hurry back before the second weekend after New Year’s Eve.

Penny quietly grumbled to herself but didn’t hold much hope.

All the civilian ships were commandeered by her father to the east, and they were probably just arriving at Death Coast. Who knows when the transport capacity would return to normal.

"Then I’ll trouble my lovely niece to keep my wife company, sorry, I’ll bring gifts for you both."

Holding a fork in his hand, Little Bill excitedly shouted.

"Oh! I want mutant eyes! Green ones!"

Dimi glared fiercely at the restless little fellow.

"What do you want that filthy thing for? It’s dirty!"

Ross laughed heartily, reaching out with his broad hand to ruffle his son’s hair fondly.

"Hahaha! Dad will look for it, but there aren’t any mutants in Poluo Province... How about mammoth tusks?"

Watching the cheerful family, Penny couldn’t help but smile.

Suddenly, she wasn’t in such a hurry to leave.

As long as her family was safe, it didn’t matter where they spent the holidays...

Having finished dinner in a hurry, Ross picked up the suitcase the maid helped pack, kissed his wife goodbye, and strode out the door, getting into the SUV parked outside.

One thousand Vellante soldiers had already donned their uniforms, slung their rifles and backpacks, and completed assembly at the docks of Evernight Harbor.

Unlike the officers at West Sail Port, they were real soldiers, battling incessantly in the desert with those gray-skinned mutants, exuding a solemn and murderous aura.

It wasn’t just their straight postures; the weapons they carried were equally imposing.

From automatic and semi-automatic rifles to light machine guns and Gatling guns, even grenade launchers and flamethrowers, all showcased their formidable martial prowess!

Unlike the Eastern Legion, which downplayed the role of infantry, the Southern Legion invested heavily in supporting equipment and light weapons, especially since the latter didn’t have as many airships, nor battlefields for steel torrents to gallop.

At this moment, the bustling port was entirely shrouded in darkness.

Ross, now in uniform, walked to a group of soldiers and shouted in a loud voice.

"A bunch of gutter rats not only knocked over our oil lamp and stole our cheese but now want to gnaw at our fingers greedily! We’ll show them they picked the wrong opponents! Now! Set off——!!"

"Kill!!!"

The response to him was a series of spirited shouts, and the soldiers, equipped with gear, boarded the transport ship’s deck with composure.

They had no doubts.

Once ashore, all they needed was a charge to knock those weaklings down.

The siren on the dock blared, and the stranded passengers on the shore exchanged glances.

"...Where are they going to fight?"

Suddenly someone said.

"I heard there’s trouble at West Sail Port..."

"West Sail Port?!" A man holding a suitcase suddenly showed a panicked expression, muttering tremulously, "My wife and kids are still there..."

The people around exchanged glances.

A fellow traveler patted him on the shoulder, sympathetically comforting him.

"Don’t be so nervous. Our relationship with the Empire is so strong; even if something happens, it won’t be anything major."

Others also offered reassurances.

"Yes."

"Everything will surely be fine."

"After all, those rebels are only fighting the Empire; there’s no word of them causing trouble for us or the Alliance."

The man gave a bitter smile, but his pale complexion didn’t change.

"Let’s hope so..."

For some reason, his eyelids twitched violently, and his heart pounded in a daze...

Meanwhile, across the Poluo Sea, West Sail Port was engulfed in a sea of fire.

From the dock to the sea was a scene of bloody chaos, with scattered luggage and bodies everywhere.

The shattered windows and marble buildings faintly echoed with wanton laughter and miserable screams, and the mixture of the smell of blood and the sea air was inseparable, even the sea breeze blowing toward the harbor couldn’t disperse it.

A disheveled Vellante woman crawled toward the dock in a daze, her hoarse voice muttering as if she were calling someone’s name.

The sea water at the dock’s edge was murky, yet it was the only place that could wash away the filth on her body.

She was not afraid of death.

She only regretted not jumping into the sea from the start, instead harboring fantasies that these beasts would calm down and treat the Vellante people here as hostages to negotiate with the Army.

But when they all obediently entered different rooms as instructed by those people, those guys immediately tore off their masks.

"I’m sorry..." she wept, unable to form words, as she bit her lip, reaching her blood-stained hand toward the dock stained red with blood.

However, just as she was about to reach it, a hand suddenly grabbed her ankle, pulling her back into that bloody hell amidst hoarse screams.

"Hey, hey! You’ve called the wrong person; your husband is right here."

"Hahaha!"

"The interrogation isn’t over yet. Who allowed you to leave? Come back here!"

"Ahhhh!"

The miserable screams quickly faded into the evening breeze, insignificant compared to the rising and falling sounds at the harbor.

The suffering was not limited to the Vellante people.

There were also the Lion Clan, Horse Clan, Sun People, Cow People... even the Mouse Tribe and Snake Clan people.

Not all of them were nobles; in fact, most were civilians.

However, bullets do not distinguish between high and low, and those carrying guns similarly have no interest in differentiating.

Most had killed until their eyes were bloodshot.

As for Anush, who became the king, he was just one of them.

In the face of the tide of the era, one person’s choice was insignificant.

After all, the former was the choice of countless people, even if those making the choices were unaware.

Yishel wanted to step forward and do something, like "Pol" in Giant Stone City.

But unfortunately, he ultimately didn’t have Pol’s Strength.

His shouts were utterly insignificant, and no matter how much he exhausted his words, the people didn’t care. In the end, even the listeners of the "Silver Gospel News" began to waver, questioning whether they had followed the wrong person or taken the wrong path.

Helplessly, he could only retreat to the church with those followers who still stood with him.

If those thugs still fantasized about gaining the Alliance’s support, at least they wouldn’t lay hands on the Silver Moon Sect’s church.

If they had even a shred of reason left in their minds...

Compared to the regretful Yishel, the opportunistic Gowenda had smooth sailing.

Although he was pushed onto the battlefield as Cannon Fodder, he luckily didn’t die in the initial attack. Instead, for his "brave fight," he was accepted by those thugs and became one of them.

Centurion.

He never thought he could become a Centurion in his lifetime!

He was so excited that he almost shouted out loud, eager for the entire street to know!

However, perhaps out of fear of the Vellante people and nobles, or maybe worried about future retributions, he still didn’t go as mad as the others, nor did he dare touch those Vellante and Lion Clan girls.

He was easily satisfied or, rather, simple and honest.

Even when Nagi cut his rightful 8 Dinars down to 6, he never thought of burning down the warehouse, only spat on the ground.

Though grateful for his gamble’s success, he didn’t stay in the dock area for a celebration feast. Instead, he "quit while ahead," carried his gun home, and visited the widow in the shack across.

He had been eyeing that woman for a long time, and every time he saw her milky white skin, he had wild thoughts but never had the courage to speak up, only daring to fantasize in his head.

But times had changed.

He had made it big!

"Stop crying... Look at you, like a bear. What’s wrong with sticking with me and enjoying the good life?"

Looking at the weeping woman, Gowenda grumbled as he pulled on his pants, anxiously counting out four Dinars’ worth of change from his pocket and throwing it on the table, thinking it insufficient, adding a 10-value coin.

"Take it... As long as I have a bite to eat, so will you."

As if saying this would bring some comfort, he casually tossed out these words, then grabbed the rifle leaning against the wall and rushed out the door.

Fourteen Dinars...

Dammit!

He would have had to work at the dock for two or three days to earn that much!

Afterward, Gowenda felt a pang of heartache, but ultimately, he was too embarrassed to take back the money he gave out. He could only quicken his pace toward the brightly lit harbor.

Before the "celebration feast" ended, he needed to go there to pick—oh no, grab a little more!

Thinking this, the simple and honest him tried hard to put on a fierce expression.

The world had changed.

He had to learn to think differently about problems now...

-

(Thanks to the "Sword-Wielding Tea Drinker’s" alliance leader reward!!!)