The falling leaves brought news: Shehri had escaped.
Beneath the joint efforts of both the Empire and the Federation, under the pincer siege of Tianyuan and the White Stag, and even while pursued by both the Dragon Tongue and Flying Light hunters—he had escaped!
He had run with skill, run with flair, run his way into legend.
He was practically a mythical survivor, a grandmaster of fleeing for his life!
Even after being beaten like a dog, even when hanging by a thread half-dead, even after "losing his home" and "brother turning against brother," he had ultimately carried Ji Jue's hopes and expectations and slipped away!
All anyone could say was that his credentials were indisputable.
While the rest of the pursuers were consumed with furious rage, they naturally accepted reality.
Absurd as it was, considering what the hell Shehri had actually done, it almost seemed reasonable. Put yourself in his shoes: if it were you, how could you possibly steal a fusion bomb without preparing a getaway plan beforehand?
When it came strictly to running away, everyone was willing to crown him the greatest.
Regrettably, the remaining wolves were not blessed with such good fortune. Immediately after Shehri slipped away, the seven wolves exposed that night were rounded up and wiped out in one fell swoop. On top of that, with Dragon Tongue and Flying Light competing against each other, they followed the trail and dragged out several more.
Going by head count, the An brothers—who fought side by side and could call on their old man at any moment—held a temporary lead of one, but the gap remained razor-thin.
Thus, before daybreak, the brothers had already set out with their niece to redouble their efforts!
These days, wolves were scarce and the meat was lean. The old wolves were better at pulling their heads into their shells than turtles, rarely ever showing their faces. With a rare opportunity at hand before word reached the other factions, they had to take every bite they could get—and what they couldn't finish, they would pack up and take with them.
As for the Empire, after its display of impotent rage, it flew into several more fits.
Unlike others who could only stew in grievance when furious, the Empire's rage birthed a mountain of misery for everyone else. From last night to the present, fighter planes and airships rose and descended like clouds at the garrison base, while convoys surged in and out like a deluge.
They pushed deep into the Mid-Continent, breaking through the storm, launching saturation bombardments against every mountainous area suspected of harboring the White Nation Restoration Front, and carrying out sweeping strikes on every Front cell they could trace.
Not just in Tacheng—the security forces stationed across all six garrison bases in the Mid-Continent and the phlogiston oil fields moved out like rabid dogs, launching an all-out, cost-be-damned purge against these skulking vermin.
Anyone caught alive was subjected to brutal torture; anyone brought back dead was greeted by an Ascension or Heart Pivot expert summoned on the double to work on them while they were still warm, waiting for corpse and soul to open their mouths on their own!
Hunt, hunt, hunt! Burn, burn, burn! Kill, kill, kill! Blast, blast, blast!
It was sheer madness.
Scary enough to frighten people to death.
Yet when anyone asked what had actually happened, they refused to utter a single word, which only made it all the more terrifying.
After Tacheng was purged across multiple waves within twenty-four hours, all the survivors trembled like cicadas in winter, too terrified to speak. The living jumped at every rustle in the wind, dreading the dawn, while the dead did not even know how they had died.
Don't ask—if you asked, the answer was colluding with a terrorist organization!
Yet who the hell wasn't colluding with a terrorist organization? Big brother, weren't you, the Federation and the Empire, the very ones who took the lead in colluding with and propping up terrorist groups in the first place?
A person couldn't be so shameless. Everyone was just working for you, after all!
Unfortunately, having been triggered this time, the Empire had completely discarded all pretenses of humanity, and even the Federation had joined in.
So it was that, by some bizarre twist of fate amidst the ferocious crackdown by both sides, they eerily fulfilled their original promise—bringing temporary order and stability to the Mid-Continent.
How could it not be stable?
Two madmen named Empire and Federation were on the streets, killing anyone in sight. Whether it was illicit arms trafficking, black-market organ smuggling, illicit narcotics peddling, or even the warlords and terrorist outfits—anyone who dared flaunt their presence right now was begging for death!
The hyenas that had grown fat trembled in terror; every creature of the dark dared not show its face.
Even the looting and murders so common in the post-disaster slums were reduced to ash under the shockwaves of the Empire's and Federation's iron fists!
As a result, even the usually insignificant ants surprisingly enjoyed two days of good living. For them, this already counted as a rare period of peace.
Vibrant vitality was too much to ask for; this serene lifelessness was already a paradise that usually only existed in dreams.
In just two short days, the aftershocks of the purge finally settled.
Coming back to their senses, everyone looked around blankly, completely clueless about what had actually transpired.
That included Corpse Mountain, Shanji, and the others who had been inexplicably blasted out of their hiding spots, along with every other affected business and organization.
They had just been walking down the street minding their own business when a massive slap landed out of nowhere.
Beaten half to death without rhyme or reason, they had no idea why!
The only thing they knew was that they had been dragged down by that dog Shehri, branded as his accomplices by the Federation and the Empire, and put on the high-priority hit list, leaving them no choice but to scurry from hole to hole, too terrified to peek outside.
Consequently, an unending stream of messages poured from various channels toward the White Nation Restoration Front and its numerous liaison posts. The phrasing, medium, and tone differed, but the core message was identical, boiling down to just two sentences:
*Damn you, Shehri, fuck your whole family!*
*—What the hell did you actually do?!*
Shehri gave no reply whatsoever; no one even knew where he was, or whether he was alive or dead.
There was only the crackdown from the Empire and Federation, growing increasingly fierce and steadily unhinged.
The White Nation Restoration Front, which had originally been entrenched in the mountains and gradually expanding its power, had now suffered catastrophic misfortune. Bombed nine times in three days, its members scurried in hiding, daring not show their faces, and the organization was teetering on the brink of schism.
Right at this critical juncture, the Empire's envoy finally arrived.
He named names, demanding an audience with the leader of the White Nation Restoration Front, the last surviving scion of the late king.
Ten minutes after entering the conference room, however, he was dragged out in bonds, flayed alive, and bled to death.
His corpse and skin were even hung high on the parapet!
They swayed gently in the wind under the gaze of the Empire's binoculars.
In this blunt fashion, the Restoration Front declared its stance, severing the very last thread of possibility for peace talks.
Because of this, the internal friction within the splintering Front flared up once more.
Had several venerable old retainers who had served the late prince not forcefully suppressed it, an outright bloodbath would have erupted on the spot. Panic hung heavy in the air; hearts were restless and difficult to soothe.
In this era, noble-minded individuals steadfastly dedicated to national restoration who would die nine times without regret were simply too rare. Most were opportunists who had been swept along into the mountains or had sat on the fence from the beginning, pondering when to jump ship. Expecting cohesive unity from a terrorist organization like this was truly ridiculous; was everyone supposed to be a zealot?
In this moment of crisis, a veteran pillar of the Front disregarded all consequences, barged into the Young Lord's residence, and offered a desperate plea.
Abdullah demanded point-blank, "Young Lord, have you forgotten the aspirations of our ancestors?"
Even amidst his simmering rage, the Young Lord replied with solemn gravity, "Not for a single moment!"
"Then please tell me, what kind of bewitching brew did Shehri pour down your throat?!"
Abdullah glared, his tone bordering on an interrogation. "The pressing matter at hand is our great cause of national restoration! Before we retrieve the late king's remains, no matter how preposterous the Empire's demands are, we could have just humored them! At worst, we could hand Shehri over. Why offend the Empire for nothing?!"
"The Empire says we have a fusion bomb."
The Young Lord uttered only that single sentence.
In the sudden dead silence that followed, even Abdullah, who had always been a dove, was moved to a bitter, incredulous laugh, speechless.
What else could he say?
*Goddamn it, pulling that again, are you?!*
*Who the hell would believe that?!*
*You used that exact excuse decades ago, and after all these decades, you can't even be bothered to change it!*
*Back then, the late prince, the previous White King who met such a tragic end, hid his claws and endured under your tyranny for half his life—wasn't he driven to a dead end by this very same trick?!*
Now, everyone was utterly speechless.
If you wanted to frame someone, an excuse was never hard to find.
Even Abdullah, who had harbored profound distaste and revulsion for someone like Shehri, abandoned his previous cold severity and sent men with healing medicine.
"Shehri, rest easy and heal your wounds. Everyone misunderstood you before."
The gesture left even Shehri himself dumbfounded.
"Ah? Is... is that so...?"
Whether it was true or not, the White Nation Restoration Front had no room left to bow its head or back down.
What else could they do?
Where would they steal a fusion bomb to hand over to the Empire?
If they actually produced one, wouldn't that just confirm the accusation that they possessed weapons of mass destruction?
Shehri running off to steal their fusion bomb? Pure nonsense!
Inside the Restoration Front, not a single soul believed that could be true.
Just as within the Federation and the Empire, not a single soul doubted that it was anything but the truth.
In a sense, this was what you called a reputation!
The theft of the fusion bomb was merely a fuse. What it truly ignited was the irreconcilable hatred and animosity between the White Nation Restoration Front and the puppet government propped up by the Empire and Federation. Besides, even without the fusion bomb, the fact that Shehri had rallied so many fiends and monsters to lurk in Tacheng for a grand gathering was an indisputable reality.
With the Front's unyielding stance and accusations, along with their live-streamed execution of a batch of Imperial and Federal captives and the issuance of their manifesto, a fight-to-the-death counter-terrorism war between the two sides had become inevitable.
Unless the Front was completely eradicated from the soil of the White Nation, and unless Shehri's corpse was exposed to the wilderness with the fusion bomb recovered, the lost face and authority of the Empire could never be restored.
And the security and stability of the Empire and Federation could never be guaranteed.
Beneath the looming shadow of an imminent counter-terrorism war, a grand, sweeping wolf-hunt had long since begun!
Driven by bounties posted by the Federation, the Empire, and the Wilderness Market, virtually every Celestial Chosen threw themselves into the hunting campaign.
Compared to Tacheng's outward lifelessness, beneath the surface it was already ablaze with fervor.
While the city's commercial streets were completely deserted, numerous related industries were raking in profits hand over fist, their mouths dripping with oil.
Without warning or preparation, right when everyone was caught flat-footed, an unexpected gold rush slammed right into their faces!
Even Ji Jue, the greatest beneficiary of it all, was caught completely by surprise!
At the Security Bureau base, Ji Jue had just finished complying with questioning.
He wasn't the only one; practically every prominent figure still breathing had been summoned for mandatory interviews to verify their innocence and clear them of suspicion.
When it came to Ji Jue, it was entirely routine.
After all, someone with a background as pristine and spotless as Ji Jue was as rare as an extinct black-and-white bear in the Mid-Continent. If they really pressed, it was only to ask what that shot he had fired last night was about.
With his connection to the An family, Ji Jue stepping in to provide covering fire was entirely justifiable.
Besides, he had posted bounties himself, openly looking for wolves to conduct research on!
At this juncture, nobody would be foolish enough to make things difficult for him, especially with Brother Plant acting as his escort.
Unlike the others who trembled in cold sweat, Ji Jue had tea, chatted, and even dropped by the cafeteria afterward for a fully loaded bowl of pork chop rice, making himself right at home.
Then, before he had even finished his meal, a commissioner from the Federal Military Department sat down across from him.
He slid over a procurement contract and a pen.
Ji Jue picked it up, flipped through just two pages, and when his eyes caught the numbers, everything nearly went black before him.
He sucked in a sharp breath of cold air.
He went numb.
"—Wait, how many?!"
Phase two procurement of Self-Propelled Riot Cats: 4,100 units, all expedited, delivery required within one month.
The order also included substantial quantities of armored vehicles and powered exoskeletons, enough to keep Haichao Armaments—freshly expanded—working its assembly lines until sparks flew.
Yet all of that combined was merely a bonus.
The true core requirement was two product services from the catalog Ji Jue had casually submitted earlier, things that had essentially been nothing more than empty promises—the "New Security Drone Identification System" and the "Counter-Drone System" that Haian Tech had planned to roll out gradually in the future!
The former enabled drones taking flight to instantly flag and issue warnings about dangerous individuals suspected of carrying weapons in dense crowds.
The latter, once deployed, could immediately distinguish and lock onto anything suspected of being a drone unit, and conduct radio-frequency jamming once authorized.
Both were security-grade police equipment.
According to Ji Jue's plan of outflanking the competition on the curve, he had intended to lay low for a while longer before stepping in to snatch food from fellow competitors' bowls. He had never imagined that before they were even launched, the moment they poked their heads out, Lyu Yingyue would have Haichao Armaments push them straight to the Military Department as flagship products.
From there, the approval process was pushed through at breakneck speed, leading to a mandatory designated procurement.
They didn't even care about the price list where Ji Jue had casually scribbled numbers off the top of his head; they just closed their eyes and punched in zeroes.
*Cut the chatter, take the money, and hand over the goods!*
*Instantly! Right now! Immediately!*
There was no helping it. Even with Ji Jue's drooling, careless pricing, the entire package was vastly cheaper than anything offered by other enterprises—so much cheaper it was staggering.
Not even half the cost.
Moreover, it involved virtually no hardware retrofitting, amounting at most to adding a module and an authentication box. The two systems could seamlessly integrate directly into the Federal Military Department's current frontline combat configurations.
They didn't even need to ramp up manufacturing capacity.
It was pure software, requiring at most a few driver updates based on different equipment.
All they needed to do was deploy a few large local servers to provide sufficient computing power; the rest would naturally be handled by the Lord of the Flies' spirit cats working around the clock online!
One cat spirit handled identification, another confirmed targets, and yet another caught any oversights while rotating off on rest.
Compared to a ninety-nine percent accuracy rate and terrifying efficiency, what did the modest amount of electricity and spiritus crystals consumed in a month even matter?
The mere mention of the word "war" said it all: it stood for surplus stockpiling and lavish expenditure. Nobody would complain about having hoarded too much, and nobody would complain about spending too little.
At this juncture, no one could predict what would happen next, so the garrison bases across the Mid-Continent had entered hamster mode, arming themselves regardless of cost.
The fusion bomb hung overhead like the Sword of Damocles, blazing brightly, and until the iron fist thoroughly crushed Shehri to dust, the frenzy was unlikely to stop.
Under this overwhelming demand and favorable wind, Haichao Armaments, which had previously been an invisible player at the table, entered a phase of breakneck expansion.
Holding the pen, Ji Jue sighed with deep emotion. *Old Lou's going to have a rough time, pulling all-nighters and working overtime until he pisses blood. For our future good days, bear with the hardship a bit longer!*
Without hesitation, he signed and stamped the document.
And that wasn't all!
Immediately after, no sooner had the Military Department commissioner walked away than a procurement officer from the Mid-Continent garrison base took the seat opposite Ji Jue. He, too, slid forward a procurement contract and a pen.
*Sign it, Mr. Ji. This is a craftsman's fate.*
The purchasing party was the Mid-Continent garrison base, the contractor was Craftsman Ji Jue, and the demanded product was custom alchemy bullets consumed by the armored knights.
Phase one was an initial trial purchase of fifty thousand rounds to test the waters.
"Fifty thousand?" Ji Jue froze.
"I know this demand is on the higher side, but right now every department has needs everywhere. The prices are strictly capped by the Military Department, so there's really nothing I can do."
The major representing the armaments department squeezed out a smile. "The General's meaning is that you bear with the hard work for now, and our base certainly won't mistreat our own."
"No, what I mean is... isn't fifty thousand rounds a bit too few?"
Ji Jue paused, then shrugged. "It feels somewhat insulting."
For a moment, the entire cafeteria fell dead silent.
Every Celestial Chosen turned their heads in astonishment, looking over to see which almighty lord was courting death, putting on airs here of all places.
*Fifty thousand rounds? Too few?*
*Do you think these are copper-jacketed bullets sold by the jin?!*
Only at the adjacent table, Tong Shan calmly lifted his bowl and continued eating.
Completely unfazed.
*Standard procedure, everyone sit back down. How far along does he think this even is?*
Even the procurement officer fell silent.
His eyes widened, searching Ji Jue's expression to determine whether he was joking. Filled with suspicion, he finally asked after a long pause, "What you mean is...?"
Ji Jue picked up a piece of pork chop with his chopsticks, ate it unhurriedly, raised his bowl to take a sip of soup, and set it down before repeating, "Fifty thousand rounds is pretty meager."
*Barking!*
*The dog's still barking!*
*Do you not know how to take a hint?!*
The armaments major was practically amused by his own exasperation. A way out had already been handed to him on a silver platter, so why didn't he know to take it? Did he really insist on putting on this grand performance?!
Still, as an experienced functionary who had weathered great storms, even as irritation flared inside him, his expression remained as placid as drifting clouds, warm and composed. Lowering his voice, he offered a gentle reminder: "Mr. Ji, while military procurement offers lucrative profits, the inspection standards are by no means low."
*The words are laid bare. You should understand now, shouldn't you?*
*Do you know what a military pledge means, brother?!*
*Quit while you're ahead.*
"Mm."
Having wiped his mouth, Ji Jue reached out and pointed toward the sidearm on the major's belt—a largely symbolic piece. He crooked his finger, gesturing for it.
The major was silent for a few seconds, then drew the pistol and slid it across.
*I'd like to see how you finish this act today!*
*If you can't pull it off, let's see who ends up looking like the clown!*
Right before his eyes, Ji Jue deftly inspected the firearm like a veteran soldier with years of service, released the magazine, and ejected the bullets one by one into his palm.
The golden bullets piled into a small mound.
Then, before everyone present, his fingers curled and turned over.
Instantly, bullet after bullet slipped through the gaps between his fingers, clattering onto the table with crisp, rhythmic snaps. The sound sent the eyelids of every spectator—whether peeking in secret or watching openly—twitching frantically in sync with each tap.
Upon the table, a dazzling silver radiance surfaced across each bullet, brilliant and luminous.
As though forged from pure silver.
An immensely restrained spiritus aura emanated from them, supremely stable, as layers of delicate spiritus circuits intertwined with one another, intricate as a field of stars.
In the mere turn of a hand, fifteen standard alchemy bullets imbued with armor-piercing and penetration effects—a yield that would require an ordinary apprentice to toil away for an entire week—lay manifest before everyone.
Then came a long, suffocating silence.
Stretching on and on.
The moment people snapped out of it, heavy footsteps echoed as quick-witted observers sprinted out, rushing straight toward the office of the Mid-Continent Operations Division's chief.
The officer sat as though on a bed of nails.
"This... this..." The major broke into a cold sweat, caught between shock and bewilderment. Not being a Celestial Chosen, he couldn't comprehend the technical marvel behind this. "Forgive my untrained eyes, but I truly cannot discern the difference."
"That's simple."
Ji Jue glanced toward Tong Shan at the next table. "Brother Shan?"
"Mm."
Tong Shan had finished eating as well. Setting down his chopsticks, he flicked his finger, and sixteen deliberately visible layers of telekinetic barriers materialized before them.
In the blink of an eye, Ji Jue had reloaded and pulled the trigger straight at Tong Shan.
Amidst the roaring boom, startling fractures appeared before everyone's eyes. Ballistic traces manifested on the torn air barriers, accompanied by streaks of splashing silver radiance.
Forcibly locked in mid-air.
Like silver roses blooming in the sky.
Three bullets, following one another in close succession, had actually breached fourteen layers of barriers before hanging suspended in front of Tong Shan. To this, Tong Shan didn't even blink.
"One layer, let me see... is roughly equivalent to a standard ballistic plate. A pistol bullet has limited room for enhancement; heavy rounds suited for power armor should be able to punch through ten centimeters of standard armor plating."
Ji Jue tossed the pistol, still holding three rounds, back to the major. "My reputation as a craftsman is fairly decent; there's no need for me to stake my Golden Ribbon on fraud over small matters like this.
"You can take them back for inspection. Quality and quantity guaranteed.
"Fifty thousand really isn't much. It's just a single night's work for me."
In reality, that was a lie.
Because it wouldn't even take a night.
Nor would it require him to lift a finger!
Even now, the production lines formed by countless cats in Punabantu were churning relentlessly, and the warehouse was already stacked with mountains of alchemy bullets fitted for power armor!
*Gulp—*
Amidst the dry sound of someone swallowing spit, the silent major slowly rose to his feet. "Excuse me... I'll—I need to make a call."
"Go ahead."
Ji Jue lifted his rice bowl once more. This time, before he could finish, Tong Shan's phone rang.
He listened to the voice on the other end and nodded. "Understood. Yes, don't worry, just leave it to me."
Hanging up, he looked toward the smiling Ji Jue.
"Brother Shan, would this count as nepotism and insider trading between us?" Ji Jue grinned. "Should I kick you a referral fee?"
Tong Shan was blunt and direct. "The Mid-Continent Operations Division doesn't have surplus grain either, so give us a discount. Our demand for bullets isn't large, but the specifications are fairly high."
"Deal. Ten percent off market price."
Ji Jue nodded without hesitation. "I need to make a little profit, but you can't say I'm not being a good friend, right?
"Barter is acceptable; everything's negotiable. Besides, if friends you introduce come by, maintenance on Blessed Creations will be at a mates' rate. If the Operations Division has orders, I'll expedite them for you. How about that?"
"Done."
Tong Shan nodded, indifferent to the bizarre looks directed their way.
Right there in the bustling cafeteria, in plain view of everyone, an undisguised insider deal was concluded—and the Operations Division would still have to say thank you.
Regardless of whether it was insider trading or whether Tong Shan pocketed any money, even if someone lacked the sense to report it to the chief, they would only be slapped until they spun like a top.
Were craftsmen really that special?
Sorry, but craftsmen really were that special!
Especially at a time like this, a craftsman who could ramp up production and satisfy every procurement need was simply invincible plus, fully entitled to do whatever the hell he pleased!
With one deal settled, the major had yet to return, but Ji Jue's phone was already lighting up. First was Lieutenant General Fan Yun of the Federal garrison base.
A single sentence: *I'll take as much as you have.*
Then came Shaban from the Wilderness Market, with two sentences: *Whatever's left, I'll take it all. Thanks for the trouble, brother—I'll pay double!*
And so, Ji Jue knew that the time had come to clear out his inventory.
Hanging up the call, he raised his head and surveyed the quiet cafeteria, unable to hold back a heartfelt sigh of emotion.
"Who said the hearts of the Mid-Continent are treacherous?"
In this world, after all, most people were still good!
Chapter 607