"Have those damned knights come sweeping through again?"
"Looks like we have to relocate our base once more."
Inside the dark, damp cave, the dim yellow candlelight flickered. Spark had a grave look on his face.
After enduring several days of pursuit and encirclement by the army of the Principality of Carter, the enslaved laborers he had led out of the Valier Mine had suffered devastating casualties. Hundreds had already been left behind forever.
"They're... too powerful."
Nick lowered his head, his expression gloomy.
His friend from the mine had died in battle. The force dispatched by the principality was terrifyingly formidable; nearly a hundred enslaved workers who had stayed behind to cover the retreat had been slaughtered single-handedly by the heavily armored knight known as the "Eagle of Carter." The bloody carnage remained seared into Nick's memory to this day.
"They're classed individuals."
"We can't keep going like this. The gap between us and those who possess extraordinary power is just too vast," Spark said as he spread out a parchment map.
After days of brutal fighting, he had managed to reach level one as a fighter, but he had no proper equipment and was simply no match for the heavily armored knights sent by the Principality of Carter.
"Wait—"
Spark interlaced his fingers and rested his chin on his hands, lost in thought.
"Maybe we can enlist outside help."
Nick let out a bitter laugh. "Every realm in the Northlands has issued an ultimatum against us. They'd love nothing more than to tear us to pieces. Even though those countries squabble among themselves, they share absolute unity in their hatred for runaways like us."
"The 'outside help' I'm talking about isn't any of the Northland countries."
Nick was taken aback. "You mean..."
Spark grinned, a meaningful smile playing on his lips.
"Since they slander us as devils and beasts, our only choice is to team up with another bunch of devils."
As a somewhat well-known lore enthusiast, Spark had contact details for many closed beta players. At this moment, those connections became his lifeline to find a way forward for Fireseed.
Opening his interface, he scrolled down his list to "Gangtie Kuangchao"—the renowned guild president of the Machine Cult.
***
Northwind Keep, Machine Cult Headquarters, the Hall of Mars.
On the door hung a gear emblem boasting a distinctly high-tech feel.
Carved into its base was a passage: *In the name of the Sacred Binary, sing loud praise to the Omnissiah, all glory to the Machine God!*
The artificer players of the Machine Cult had taken cosplay to its absolute extreme.
Right now, Gangtie Kuangchao was buried in paperwork in the main hall, completely overwhelmed. Beside him stood several ogre guards—supposedly tasked with protecting him, but in reality monitoring his work.
Ever since he embezzled public funds to build a mech, Trump had assigned several confidants to watch him round the clock to ensure nothing similar happened again. Even large-scale fund allocations now had to be reported to his superiors.
Gangtie Kuangchao felt like crying, but had no tears left. As he put it himself:
"Call this a guild president? I'm basically doing hard labor."
Lately, the Machine Cult had recruited a substantial number of genuinely high-caliber talents, assigning them to senior technical positions. They had rapidly pushed the tech tree forward, combining real-world technology with magical reactions to manufacture semi-automatic firearms, howitzers, and even draft blueprints for mana-powered tanks.
A new cycle of weapon upgrades was plainly imminent across the kingdom.
Gangtie Kuangchao flipped to the next document.
*Project No. 127: Early Internet Architecture Based on the Weave—Remote Magical Terminal Connection.*
He could not help but swallow hard. Serving as guild president over such a den of hidden masters always left him feeling thoroughly outclassed.
*Damn, where did this heavyweight come from? How can progress be this fast? At this rate, we're really going to enter the Sacred Binary.*
Suddenly, a message flashed on Gangtie Kuangchao's system panel, prompting him to set down the paperwork for a moment.
*Spark: Hey Brother Kuangchao, you there?*
*Spark: Interested in sponsoring a batch of arms?*
*Gangtie Kuangchao: ?*
Gangtie Kuangchao had heard about the Fireseed organization Spark had founded.
After all, the "Valier Riot" had been featured in a special section of the *Kingdom Daily*, turning into a hot topic nationwide and even earning lavish praise from kingdom officials, who dubbed it the "Mine Uprising."
*Gangtie Kuangchao: Trying to get something for nothing, are you?*
*Spark: How can you put it like that? This is investing in the future!*
*Gangtie Kuangchao: I don't have that kind of authority right now. I got fined last time just for building that mech.*
*Spark: Then pass it up the chain. The enemy of my enemy is a friend. I bet the kingdom's top brass would be thrilled to give us aid.*
*Gangtie Kuangchao: Fine, whatever.*
Gangtie Kuangchao suddenly realized this was a golden opportunity to fleece some funds. If he scored an extra pool of money, maybe he could assemble another mech suit after all.
As for the firearms to be sent as aid, wouldn't it be enough to just box up whatever obsolete junk was lying around?
With that thought, he closed the chat interface and patted the sleepy ogre beside him.
"Feipi?"
"Whaddya want?"
"Don't get any funny ideas, and don't try buttering me up. I took classes in Lord Trump's accounting program. You still owe the kingdom a pile of funds."
The ogre called Feipi finally opened his eyes, waved a massive hand, and spoke in an irritated rumble.
"I have an urgent matter to report to Lord Trump."
"Oh."
Feipi grunted, pulled a crystal from his satchel, and skillfully activated it.
Soon, Trump's hideous, intimidating face appeared in the magical projection.
"What is it?"
Desperate to clear his debt and free himself from ogre surveillance, Gangtie Kuangchao immediately plastered a sycophantic smile across his face.
"Lord Trump, the leader of that 'Fireseed' outfit in the Principality of Carter just reached out to me."
"Oh?"
Trump's voice was calm.
He had long suspected that the uprisings were orchestrated by the Starfallen, and he was more than happy to see them flourish.
Gangtie Kuangchao pressed on with his report. "They're hoping to obtain a batch of munitions and some supplies from the kingdom so they can resist the pursuit of the Northland countries. I was wondering... could you perhaps approve another budget allocation?"
Trump answered indifferently, "There is no need for a special budget."
"The army phased out a shipment of smoothbore muskets years ago, and they've just been sitting in the warehouses. We can send all of them over. Once the production lines are upgraded to semi-automatic rifles and the army finishes rearming, the outdated weapons taken out of service can also be sold to them at a low price."
Trump paused, a hint of warning flashing in his eyes.
"Furthermore, the kingdom's government will naturally support these operations. There is no need for you people in the Machine Cult to worry your heads over it."
"Right, of course! Don't you worry, boss, I'll go tell him right away."
Seeing that Trump had seen straight through his little scheme to skim funds, Gangtie Kuangchao beamed obsequiously, nodding in frantic agreement.
Once the magical transmission was severed, he slumped back into his chair, utterly exhausted.
*It's bad enough getting flexed on by the geniuses in the guild...*
*How the hell am I getting outsmarted by an in-game NPC too?!*
Gangtie Kuangchao wailed silently in his heart.
Chapter 294