Chapter One Hundred Forty-Seven: Firecrackers from Xuanlu

“That settles it. In ten days, we’ll give Orlina a surprise. Don’t you dare forget.”

Aimea casually picked up a packet of rice crackers from the table. After a moment’s thought, she asked, “By the way, Qin Le, I heard that disgusting Li Zhiyuan say that you’re planning to stop supporting Orlina’s bid for the throne.”

“Even you know about it?” Qin Le asked, somewhat surprised. “Looks like the pressure is growing.”

“Whose fault is that? Those people wave Orlina’s test results around every day and make a huge fuss. Every few days they start shouting again.”

Her clear voice suddenly changed. She deliberately drew out her words, mimicking an old man.

“‘We must keep Comrade Orlina here! Someone who can reach supersonic speed through physical strength alone is more important than anything else!’ Things like that. Especially after Aileen brought transcendent knowledge here—the old men have been yelling about it every single day. Aileen only gave you a few shabby books, and you’re ready to abandon Orlina? It’s outrageous.”

Aimea grumbled with some displeasure, though beneath it lay a strange, secret delight.

She wanted Orlina to obtain what she desired, yet she also did not want Orlina to drift too far away from her.

“Aileen is only part of the reason,” Qin Le said, beginning to search through the mountain of documents on the table. At last, he pulled out a blue-covered book. “More importantly, as we compared the data on transcendent beings, we gradually discovered that something about Orlina was abnormal.”

He placed the book before Aimea and opened it to the first page, which contained the table of contents.

Orlina — pages 2–5
Knights — pages 5–18
Archers — pages 19–25
Assassins
Mages

“During this period, we conducted physical examinations on more than five hundred transcendent beings. Most came from the Hunters’ Guild, though there were also some knights from Count Dainer’s army. Most were lower-three-rank transcendents, but there were also a number of high-rank ones.”

“The results showed that Orlina’s physical attributes are dozens of times greater than those of other transcendents. In terms of body weight alone, even an upper-three-rank knight like Rod weighs only two hundred and fifty-eight kilograms. His various strength measurements barely reach a fraction of Orlina’s. This is no longer a simple matter of one plus one equaling two. It represents a qualitative transformation.”

Aileen’s promise had merely been the catalyst. It had removed the reasons for opposing Qin Le’s faction. The true reason was that Orlina was simply too powerful—powerful enough to suffocate anyone who contemplated it. More importantly, she was only seventeen, on the verge of turning eighteen.

According to transcendent theory, the ascending phase of the human race lasted through the first third of its average lifespan. If an ordinary person lived to sixty, then, excluding childhood, the ascending period would run from twelve to thirty—a total of eighteen years.

During those years, anyone with transcendent talent, no matter how poor, would grow in strength to some degree. Borrowing from a widespread but unwritten rule, if someone became a third-rank transcendent before the age of twenty, they were very likely to reach the upper three ranks.

Aileen herself had become a third-rank archmage at seventeen. According to the Hunters’ Guild records, she had become an upper-three-rank runecaster at twenty-five while exploring a ruin, though she publicly claimed to be a Punitive Knight.

Incidentally, Xuanlu still had not figured out how the professions within the lower three ranks were divided. It was almost as if they were not divided at all. Most lower-three-rank transcendents shared the same titles, following a simple progression: initiate, apprentice, and major practitioner.

The upper three ranks, however, had no such clear divisions. Their names were instead more like refinements of a field.

It was rather like modern science after entering university, when subjects became more specialized. One no longer studied biology, physics, or chemistry in general, but materials science, cellular biology, and the like.

But back to the matter at hand.

Orlina had already reached the upper three ranks. Humans were undeniably short-lived, but at that level, a transcendent could live for at least three hundred years. That meant Orlina’s ascending period would last a full century. Even if she advanced slowly, a hundred years would be more than enough for her to reach the fifth rank.

What kind of sight would that be when her strength underwent another leap?

It was an investment that could only profit. Looking at the long term, keeping Orlina in Xuanlu was the optimal choice. That was why two opposing voices had emerged within Xuanlu.

“So what are you planning to do, Qin Le?” Aimea asked.

During this period, Qin Le no longer occupied the leadership position as he had at the beginning. He had begun retreating behind the scenes, and his presence had gradually faded. Most people in the territory now saw only Xuanlu and subconsciously overlooked Qin Le, the Grand Duke of the Eastern Frontier.

He seemed more like a librarian now, though he was the only person allowed to read the books in this particular library.

Sometimes Aimea wondered whether the man was a machine. He seemed to have no desires at all, spending every day holed up here reading while ignoring everything else. If reports had not been delivered here daily, she would have suspected that he had already been stripped of power.

“I oppose the idea,” Qin Le said, “but judging from the current situation, Orlina may really have to remain in Xuanlu.”

His words carried weight, but not always enough. Xuanlu was not his personal dictatorship.

“So that means you’re going to marry that Aileen?” Aimea asked, her face full of anticipation.

“Probably.” Qin Le nodded. “Because of the king’s madness, the Kingdom of Dawn missed the harvest season. A great deal of grain was never collected and rotted in the fields. She needs Xuanlu’s support, and the reforms that follow will require our assistance as well.”

In truth, the most important factor was Orlina’s own opinion. If she had stated that she was determined to compete for the throne, Xuanlu would have done everything in its power to help her.

Unfortunately, her position had always remained vague, which was what had led to the two opposing factions.

That girl had no sense of resolve at all.

“I see. What a pity,” Aimea said, though the corners of her mouth had already begun to rise uncontrollably.

“I’m leaving. Bye. Oh, and when is your birthday?”

“December eighth.” Qin Le answered casually. “Why do you ask?”

Before he had finished speaking, Aimea vanished into thin air.

“She’s always appearing and disappearing like a ghost.”

Qin Le shook his head and picked up another book from the table—a yellow-brown volume with an ancient appearance.

This was the so-called high-level knowledge Aileen had sent. Since knowledge at this level involved the spiritual realm—in other words, insight—the Academy of Sciences had sent the book over after recording its contents. Merely reading the words could not impart what was written within.

Its color resembled dead leaves steeped in the scent of passing years. When Qin Le opened it, the pages felt rough and extremely fragile, though not nearly as fragile as he had expected.

It was a contradiction, and a marvel.

According to the Academy’s experiments, even an adult man pulling at one of the pages with all his strength could not damage it in the slightest. More violent tests had not yet been attempted, for fear of destroying the book.

The writing inside was neat, yellowed, and mysterious. It possessed a beauty that could not be described in words, and it was written in no known common tongue.

As Qin Le stared at the characters, his mind suddenly grew heavy.

He clearly could not understand them, yet somehow he grasped the meaning they conveyed. Qin Le was not the only one to experience this; all the previous test subjects had reported the same sensation.

As Aimea had put it, the book was a relic from an age so distant that no one knew when it had existed. Some special power had been attached to it, allowing anyone who looked upon it to “understand.” The spells within, however, were obscure and difficult to decipher, making them exceedingly hard to learn.

“This is…”

Qin Le frowned slightly and raised his right hand. One corridor after another emerged before him.

Bang!

The corridor dissolved into scattered points of starlight.

“Wrong.”

Bang!

“This is wrong too.”

Bang!

The process continued again and again. No one knew how much time had passed before the floor-to-ceiling window in the distance revealed an orange-yellow sunset.

Qin Le raised his right hand. Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead as he gently pressed forward.

Crack!

The rice crackers on the table suddenly shattered into several pieces.

A trace of understanding arose in his mind.

[Pressure]

“The power is this weak?” Qin Le sighed. “Never mind. It can be a minor skill. Perhaps I can use it to flatten dough someday.”

Feeling that half a day’s effort had gone to waste, Qin Le turned to the next page.

[Thrust]

…

Across the boundless earth, soldiers in armor stretched as far as the eye could see.

Gigantic beasts resembling a cross between oxen and bears hauled enormous carts more than ten meters long, their wheels carving deep ruts through the soil.

The creatures’ name translated as Mountain-Bearers. It sounded very much like something Xuanlu would name them, but the original pronunciation was Kachudan, meaning beasts capable of carrying mountains. Based on that meaning, Xuanlu had named them Mountain-Bearers.

An adult stood four meters tall and measured six meters from head to tail. Gentle by nature, they were commonly used to transport goods, and each one was worth a fortune.

Xuanlu had recently purchased one from a merchant guild. Preliminary research had revealed that its horns possessed an extremely powerful stimulating effect.

With so many ordinary people traveling alongside them, the Kingdom’s knights had lost the speed and bearing of a modern armored force. At last, they looked like an army from ancient times.

At the very rear of the army, more than a dozen trucks were racing to catch up. The marching soldiers soon spotted the steel monsters, and a brief disturbance broke out.

It was quickly suppressed by the Kingdom’s Knights. Mark led several dozen knights, turned his horse around, and galloped toward the trucks.

After a short exchange, Mark escorted the trucks into the army’s formation and ordered the march to halt.

At the very center of the army stood a white Mountain-Bearer, carrying an ornate “cabin” of interwoven white and gold.

The king emerged from the cabin. His face was ruddy, and he looked extremely hale and hearty, showing none of the ill health described in the rumors.

Nor did he resemble the gravely ill man from the correspondence with Xuanlu several days earlier—the man who had entrusted his final affairs to Qin Le and hoped that he would preserve the kingdom’s legitimate line.

Seeing the black-haired human in camouflage standing before him, the king asked in confusion, “And this is?”

The soldier in camouflage smiled. “Your Majesty, the Grand Duke asked us to bring you a gift—fireworks, a specialty of Xuanlu.”

At the king’s puzzled gaze, the unnamed soldier had several large crates carried over and opened them before him.

Inside lay strange objects with green metal shells, oval bodies, and pointed tails.

Their shape was baffling, yet unmistakably characteristic of Xuanlu.

“The Grand Duke said he regrets being unable to ease Your Majesty’s worries, so he specially sent these fireworks to lend you his support. They are low-yield, throwable napalm bombs and rockets fitted with unguided fuel-air explosive warheads.”

The king had entered this war with the intention of taking his enemies down with him. Since the opposing side had asked Xuanlu not to interfere, Xuanlu had remained on the sidelines.

But refusing to interfere did not mean watching the king throw his life away. If he was determined to sacrifice himself, then his sacrifice might as well have some value—preferably by crippling Kexian as severely as possible.

That would make things more convenient for the revolutionary movement among the gladiators in the future, and allow them to see whether the flames could truly be kindled.

For a slave-owning nation like this, Xuanlu had no intention of speaking to them about benevolence or morality.

The world would be better off once every last one of them was dead.