Dawn City First Hospital.
Lying in the hospital bed, Duke Garava stared vacantly at the first ray of morning light cresting the windowsill. His pale face looked like that of someone who had barely survived a severe illness.
These past few days, he had suffered insomnia night after night. Whenever he closed his eyes, it was never long before nightmares jolted him awake, leaving him drenched in cold sweat.
He could not understand.
Why had the trump card crafted for them by the Wilante lost?
Even more unfathomable was how they had lost to a mere five hundred-odd men.
"...Technology?"
His heart twitched with a faint throb of dread. His lips trembled slightly, and a faint glimmer of realization seemed to dawn in his murky pupils.
Illnesses that the imperial physicians could not cure had remedies here. He vaguely recalled hearing someone mention it was all due to things called science and technology.
Most astonishingly of all, it was not merely royalty and nobles like him who could receive medical care here. Their medical resources were so abundant they could even fit paupers who appeared completely destitute with mechanical prosthetics.
He had even heard from Niyang that they had established an entity called Refugee Home. As long as survivors who had lost limbs were willing to learn vocational skills and accept work assignments, they could obtain an interest-free loan to be fitted with basic mechanical prosthetics.
Calming down, Duke Garava felt his back soaked in cold sweat once more.
Only now did he gradually realize what kind of opponent they had provoked.
However...
This failed probing attack might not be entirely a misfortune.
At the very least, he had found the prescription to make the empire stronger.
Relaxing his neck and shoulders, Duke Garava sank the back of his head into the pillow. Comforting himself with these thoughts, he felt his mood improve slightly.
"...I must find a way to get my hands on some technology."
Just as he was pondering this, footsteps came from outside the door.
Fearing his voiced thoughts had been overheard, he startled, cold sweat beading on his back again. Only when he saw that the figure appearing in the doorway was his confidant, Niyang, did he slightly relax his tensed shoulders.
"My lord, you're awake?!" Holding a stack of papers, Niyang stood in the doorway, looking at the open-eyed Duke Garava with a face full of pleasant surprise.
Garava regarded him with a face as dark as still water. Just as he was about to bid him enter, his heart clutched at the sight of the papers clutched in Niyang's hand.
"Take those newspapers away!"
He did not want to see that rubbish right now.
In any case, it was a foregone conclusion that there would be no good news.
"This... isn't a newspaper, my lord. It's a draft of the ceasefire agreement drawn up by the Alliance," seeing the duke react so agitatedly, Niyang murmured in an honest, subdued tone. "Would you like me to throw it away for you?"
No sooner had his voice fallen than Duke Garava sprang from the bed as if jolted by a live wire.
That vigorous burst looked nothing like an invalid. Bloodshot eyes bulged as if ready to pop out of their sockets, and he reached out with all the strength in his body.
"Hand... it to me!"
"Right away, my lord."
Niyang bowed respectfully and stepped forward with the draft, though a faint, imperceptible look of disappointment flickered across his lowered face.
What a pity.
The fire he had strained every nerve to stoke ought to have brought down the teetering house of blocks to its very foundation, yet an invisible hand had held it steady.
If only this war had been fought to the bitter end, draining away all the foul blood reeking of corpses in one fell swoop, drowning the vermin gorging themselves on the giant's back... perhaps his homeland might have had a sliver of hope for rebirth.
Yet as matters stood, he could only wring his hands and lament his ill fortune...
...
The war was over.
At least for the time being.
Golden Gallon Port, the ruins before the Governor's Mansion. The faint stench of blood remained indelible even after several downpours.
A crowd of clothed folk knelt with palms pressed together in prayer, thanking the guardian spirits for shielding them from death and calamity. Meanwhile, ragged paupers carrying baskets rummaged through the rubble, tossing anything of value into their containers.
The corpses and the weapons lying beside them had long been gathered up by the settlement's militia, but there was still salvage left behind.
For instance, spent cartridges dropped on the ground, or bullet slugs lodged in the walls.
These brass-colored metals were valuable goods. One jin could be traded for one liang of beans, and several merchants near the port were buying them up.
Just then, someone unearthed a leather belt hung with ammunition pouches from beneath a pile of broken bricks. Ecstatic, he hoisted it high above his head and waved toward a guard seated not far away.
Catching sight of him, the guard yawned, stood from his chair, walked over, and inspected the belt for a moment. He then counted out a few banknotes and tossed them to the man.
The scavenger bowed with a fawning grin.
"Thank you, sir!"
The guard waved a dismissive hand, not even bothering to reply, and carried the leather belt back to sit down in his chair.
Envious glances converged on the lucky fellow, and the crowd turned back to scour the ruins with redoubled zeal.
Word had it that no barges had docked at the river port for a long time. His Majesty had ordered the downstream river port blockaded, and no more grain would be shipped in from the west.
Watching the price of beans climb day by day, many had already caught the scent of looming famine.
They had to prepare for the rainy days ahead...
In the distance, more scavengers tried to enter, only to be blocked by a group of burly young men.
Wearing short tunics and wielding clubs, these youths were lean yet ferocious, baring their teeth like hyenas on the savanna.
"Get lost! This is our home!"
"You bunch of cockroaches!"
"Pay up or clear off!"
The ragged scavengers were clearly no match for them. A few fished out two Xilan coins and pressed them into the young men's hands, while others who genuinely could not pay or found it not worth the cost cursed and trudged elsewhere.
On the other side, the respectable folk who had finished their prayers rose one after another, bidding a final farewell to this land where they had lived for so many years.
Leaving the ruins, they nodded in gratitude to the club-wielding youths standing watch, thankful that out of neighborly sentiment, they had not charged them a single cent.
And when their eyes turned toward a certain Rat Clan youth, reverence and gratitude shone without exception in every gaze.
By rights, they should have been the ones crawling through the debris, begging for a living.
Had they listened back then to that Wolf Clan villain Vikram and demanded more from those iron men, they would now possess nothing but a ground covered in shattered bricks—perhaps even having to brawl with scavengers wandering in from other districts over a few scraps of trash.
Bathed in those admiring gazes, Axin nodded faintly to them, though without showing too much warmth.
He could sense that behind those grateful looks lay not mere appreciation, but an awe they themselves might not even realize—just like when they stood before deities.
Being a great man was difficult, but imitating a great being was not. He knew better than anyone what these people were like.
He needed only to maintain proper distance and majesty, tossing out small favors from time to time, and they would sing praises of his benevolence and generosity.
For him now, this was almost too easy; it did not even cost money.
And in return, when they returned home, they would tell their children or younger siblings not only to be cautious like rats in the night, but to learn from that fine lad Axin and make something of themselves just like him.
Later on, without him even having to ask, their children would seek him out on their own, treating him like an older brother and asking him for work that could help them rise in the world.
These people had already become his most solid foundation.
Perhaps he should think of a name for his family clan.
Watching the neighbors depart, Axin pulled his gaze from their receding backs and spoke to his most loyal servant.
"Kunal, we won this war."
Kunal stared blankly for a second.
"We did?"
Wasn't this a war between the iron men and the empire?
He did not recall taking part in any fighting.
During those two days, he had stayed with his family, tucked away in the warehouse Axin had purchased in the port district, just as Axin had instructed.
Seeing Kunal's confusion, Axin nodded and spoke slowly.
"Yes. Not only did we win, but the survivors of all Golden Gallon Port won."
Kunal looked at him uncomprehendingly, eyes brimming with perplexity.
Knowing what puzzled him, Axin gave a faint smile.
"Two weeks ago, could you have believed that a Rat Clan person would own a lavish mansion of two to three hundred square meters on Tulip Street?"
The dash of high spirits fluttering across his brow suited his age—after all, he was only a seventeen-year-old lad.
Kunal shook his head instinctively, but soon remembered his boss was Rat Clan himself and hastily added with utmost care, "I didn't mean any offense..."
"I know," Axin did not mind. He merely narrowed his eyes toward the Governor's Mansion and continued, "Two weeks ago, there was no way a Rat Clan pauper could live as neighbors with the nobles over there. You wouldn't even have had the right to pay for it. But now, as long as you have the money, it's possible."
He felt not the slightest ache over Golden Gallon Port being battered to pieces. This place had never been his home; it belonged to His Majesty.
If anything, smashing this cracked pot was for the best. That way, they could build a new home on these ruins with their own two hands.
Only then would it truly belong to them.
As for those aloof nobles and the citizens who wailed to high heaven after eating dirt for a few meals, let them weep their eyes out. When he was starving, they had never spared him a single coin, so there was no reason for him to pity them.
Though to be honest, seeing their reactions had surprised him somewhat.
Especially when he noticed that those who had lost the most had not wept, but instead shifted their mindsets even faster than someone who had started with nothing—it nearly overturned his impression of those people.
Thinking it over, what separated him from them besides status, bloodline, and pampered living habits was probably just an education.
Those clothed folks munching on white bread could all read and had studied books. He had everything now, except that he could not match them in this regard.
And this made him determined: he had to hire a tutor for his younger brother and sister, or simply send them to Dawn City to study.
And also—
He definitely had to find an educated sister-in-law for them!
Kunal, however, had not completely grasped that speech, or rather, had only caught the word "money."
Money was indeed a good thing.
Back when he ran with Vikram, it had felt prestigious, but at most they could only make paupers bow their heads. The clothed citizens would never look twice at him just because Vikram was Wolf Clan; they only disdained Vikram for associating with riffraff, which brought dirty looks down on Kunal as well.
Now, everything had changed. Ever since he had money in his pocket, even girls in dresses gave him a second glance, sometimes even holding his hand to talk about poetry and dreams. One girl had promised that as long as he bought her a boat ticket to Silver Moon Bay, she would do anything.
"Boss, you're right... We need to find a way to make more money," Kunal muttered. "Collecting management fees from scavengers is too slow. Scraping together coin by coin, we won't save enough for a ship in our entire lives."
Axin blinked, unsure why this blockhead wanted to buy a ship, but he agreed with the first half of what he said.
They truly needed money.
And a great deal of it...
"Kunal, my friend, of course we can't get rich off scavengers. But don't look down on a business of a few coins. Money we despise will naturally be prized by someone else."
He gestured with his chin toward the club-wielding youths and continued.
"Not only do we need to make names for ourselves, but they also need to become the pride of their families. We give them the authority to collect management fees here, and in return they gain dignity and money from us. When we need to handle people we can't conveniently deal with ourselves, they'll act on our behalf."
A glimmer of understanding broke across Kunal's face as if a light had turned on in his head, but he quickly asked again, "Then what about us?"
"We do bigger business," Axin glanced at the ruins before him, eyes narrowing slightly. "This is right next to the Governor's Mansion. If a cluster of buildings goes up here, guess how much they'll sell for?"
Kunal froze, not thinking about the money, but asking anxiously, "But what if the imperial forces return?"
Besides, this was the iron men's buffer zone for firing lines! Those people had paid money to move everyone out, so how could they allow anyone to move back?!
Axin curled his lip.
"The empire? Impossible. Their courage has been shattered. If they planned to return, they wouldn't have retreated this far. Even if they do come back, the battlefield won't be here—it'll be those trenches outside the settlement."
Regarding this matter, he had already consulted that lord named "Family" yesterday.
The iron men were not keen on seeing such a large plot of land go to waste, especially one so close to the port district.
They were completely different from the governor. They seemed unable to bear seeing people suffer too much, perhaps related to that Great Horned Deer God they worshiped.
Regardless of what they wanted or intended, he would cater to their tastes and serve these masters well.
What was more, he was equally bullish on the potential of this land.
Lately, rich and poor alike wanted to live closer to those iron men. Building houses on these ruins would fetch a pretty penny.
As it happened, he had some capital on hand.
Thus, when he proposed leasing this land, the lord named "Family" was merely surprised for a moment before clapping him on the shoulder with a grin and agreeing, only mentioning land taxes and transaction taxes in passing.
However, there was no need to worry about such matters before the buildings were finished, nor even before the properties were sold. Things might change later, but for now their most pressing desire was to get the buildings erected as quickly as possible, not how much they could sell them for.
Though that lord had an eccentric temperament, he was a good person.
Axin could feel that unlike a scoundrel like himself, that man genuinely wanted to do good, even refusing the kickback Axin had offered as a tribute.
Precisely because of this, Axin had sworn to "Family" that he would never let down his expectations and mentorship, and would handle this matter impeccably.
To ensure construction could proceed smoothly and safely on this land, unexploded ordnance and explosive hazards had to be cleared first.
Consequently, he had the youths who once lived on the same street spread word that there were plenty of treasures here that the iron men didn't care for.
On top of that, he deliberately arranged several shills to find "treasures" buried under bricks every now and then, showing them off before the scavengers and exchanging them for cash from the guard.
Sure enough, lured by the rumors, the scavengers turned into red-eyed vultures, practically itching to dig three feet into the earth.
These laborers, who cost nothing and even paid him fees, would lick this battlefield clean, leaving not a single scrap behind.
After that, he could recruit workers to begin construction.
"...Kunal, I've thought about it. Solidarity is crucial—perhaps even a bit more important than the knowledge we lack. The reason the empire's lackeys fell apart at the first blow was a lack of unity. They offended everyone they could possibly offend in this settlement, educated and uneducated alike. We must never make the same mistake."
The slightly youthful face carried a maturity unfitting his age; for a fleeting moment, Kunal found him somewhat unfamiliar.
Looking at his servant nodding blankly, Axin paused before continuing.
"So, I plan to have everyone live together."
Kunal asked, puzzled, "Live together as in...?"
Axin did not answer directly.
"For a long time to come, only the areas close to the iron men will be safe. A lot of dirty things will crawl out. You see only scavengers interested in that rubble right now, but once clusters of buildings rise there, the wealthy across the entire city will swarm here just like them. I bet you that in the future, a single brick here will buy their entire wardrobe, or even their brothers, sisters, sons, and daughters."
Kunal held his breath, apparently overwhelmed by this shocking claim. It took him quite a while to squeeze out a sentence.
"But... the iron men forbid human trafficking."
"Are you as dumb as a pig? Did I say I was going to traffic people?"
Axin kicked him in exasperation, yet seeing the servant's aggrieved face, he slung an arm around his shoulder and patted him.
"Listen, Kunal. You were the first to stand by my side. Even if you're my servant to outsiders, I've always treated you as a friend, as family... I'm not telling you all this to brag about how rich I'll be. I'm telling you that you'll have a share here too—a whole building!"
"A—a whole building?!" Kunal was stunned, his voice stammering.
"Yes. They can only get an apartment, but you can get an entire building," Axin pointed toward the youths in the distance, then patted Kunal's rapidly heaving shoulder. "So take every word I say to heart. From now on, everyone from our street is our family. No matter how they treated you, me, or anyone else in the past, don't settle scores with them. Be polite to them, though you don't need to be too nice. Only by winning them and their relatives over will our fists strike outward together, so nobody dares bully us."
Kunal swallowed hard and nodded nervously. He had intended to keep his mouth shut, but could not resist asking one more thing.
"Alright, Boss... May I ask you one more question?"
Axin released his shoulder and gave him a casual look.
"Go ahead."
Kunal asked cautiously, "What is it you truly want to do...?"
Hearing this, a rare flicker of bewilderment appeared in those fierce eyes, though only for an instant.
He answered swiftly:
"I haven't thought that far ahead. Maybe I will in the future. For now, I only want to make money and protect my family."
He had no ambition to become an emperor. For a Rat Clan person to attempt that was somewhat detached from reality. Besides, he had already gained wealth beyond anything he could have imagined in his lifetime, satisfied both spiritually and materially.
His sole thought now was to protect it.
Yet that was no easy feat.
To that end, he needed power to match it.
He knew full well that the iron men partnered with him not because of his strength or wealth—those were precisely the things he lacked.
The real reason they had chosen him was that he could persuade people and do things on their behalf that were inconvenient for them to do, or even mention, themselves.
To avoid losing everything he possessed, he had to keep rolling the snowball cradled in his arms, and keep rolling it endlessly.
If he did not want to be devoured as fresh meat by the other hyenas of the wasteland...
...
Axin was not the only one feeling lost about the future. Laxi, having just won a victory, was equally bewildered.
Staring at Killing Dagger, who had brought news of the ceasefire, Laxi felt a breath trapped in his chest, stifling the fire raging in his belly.
Unable to contain the soul-scorching flames of ambition, he shouted for the first time at the exoskeleton-clad iron man:
"Why a ceasefire?! The emperor's army is completely fragile! With your help, we could march straight into Tiandu! When that happens, the treasures, the palaces, everything will be yours! We only want their blood! Nothing else!"
As long as he purged those mongrels carrying the blood of the Sun Clan and the Bull Clan, he could rebuild a dynasty belonging to the Moon Clan!
He would become the new emperor and right past wrongs. Once the reckoning was finished, he would even inject elements of the Alliance into the doctrine of the Thousand Clans and Thousand Gods—such as solidarity, equality, and the abolition of slavery—just as the desert kings were doing.
The cycle cursing this land would end completely by his hand!
And the empire reborn from the ashes would be sturdier and more united than ever before!
Frankly speaking, Killing Dagger did not particularly care for this guy, even though quite a few people on the forum liked this NPC.
That was normal. Even among fellow trolls seeking amusement, not everyone derived fun from the same things.
For example, Brother Mosquito just wanted to watch things explode, Tail wanted to give cute girls a home, and Indebted Big Eye was the same, just channeling his energy in a different direction.
Still, it was undeniable that compared to those slaves who possessed nothing but hot blood, this man had something about him.
"Calm down."
Looking at the red-faced, thick-necked man, Killing Dagger did not move an inch. He simply spoke calmly:
"You should know whose help enabled you to smash through the Gray Wolf Army like splitting bamboo. We don't discount your contributions in battle, but you must know yourself. You and your men are no match for that Alayan. It's as easy for them to crush you as it is for us to crush them."
Laxi stared at him in disbelief.
"Aren't we friends?"
Knowing that stunned look was crafty feigning, Killing Dagger flatly ignored it and continued in a level tone:
"We are. But they have friends of their own too, farther to the west... By boat, those big-nosed fellows are even closer to here than we are. Do you catch my drift? If we keep fighting, it means total war. We'd not only have to spend hundreds of millions of silver coins, but could also give a far more dangerous enemy an opening. Ask yourself: are you worth that expenditure to us right now?"
It was not just a matter of money.
The faction boss's attitude mattered more than money; they had to constantly consider whether their actions aligned with the Alliance's overall interests.
Though there was no need to tell this fellow that.
Realizing his insolence from that sharp tone, Laxi took a deep breath, straining to rein in his agitated emotions.
He had no idea what that greater threat was, but he still wanted to make one last effort for the people of this land.
Looking at the instructor, he spoke earnestly:
"Please let me meet with Mr. Fang Chang!"
Killing Dagger said seriously, "This was Fang Chang's idea, and of course the conclusion we reached after joint discussion."
Laxi fell into utter despair.
No—
It could not be called complete despair either.
Perhaps a basin of cold water had merely doused some of the flames of ambition burning in his chest.
He realized that relying on outsiders' power to become emperor was unrealistic; no one would be generous enough to risk everything solely for their benefit.
And his own strength was far too minuscule to match his ambition.
Perhaps—
He should be more pragmatic, starting as a warlord or something similar, and work toward the throne gradually.
His Adam's apple bobbed, and he continued:
"What about those Gray Wolves? The captured ones—how do you plan to handle them?"
Killing Dagger cast him a curious glance, wondering why he had suddenly asked about this.
However, somewhat satisfied that the man had not persisted in harping on the earlier issue, he said in a milder tone:
"We plan to have them build a prisoner-of-war camp outside the city. Reforming those who need reforming through labor is our standard practice."
Laxi froze, then asked reflexively, "Why not lock them up in Rowell Camp? We can go stay in that camp of yours instead!"
Killing Dagger stared blankly at this guy who had suddenly lost his mind, momentarily unsure which of them was the real dumbass.
"That's a POW camp. Are you insane?"
Laxi spread his arms, stepped back two paces, and clasped his hands in earnest pleading.
"Please! I made a promise to my men. I said I'd lock those beasts in cages... At least let them experience what we went through, and the wrath we slaves bear toward them!"
He needed to elevate his prestige among his subordinates by humiliating those people.
His demand was not grand—just keep them there for a few days!
Not knowing what scheme was brewing in the man's gut, Killing Dagger actually gave serious consideration to his request.
Although he had thought about telling these people that venting their fury on compatriots who were equally brainwashed and misled was unreasonable, he quickly recalled what Fang Chang had told him earlier—
Some concepts were simply too far ahead of their time for them.
With that thought, Killing Dagger spoke:
"That's a reasonable request. I'll ask for the others' opinions, but it can only delay things for a week at most. Our requirement for those prisoners isn't just retribution; we also want to use their labor to rebuild Golden Gallon Port. Reconstruction is our top priority right now."
Hearing this, Laxi was overjoyed and said hastily, "Thank you! We don't need that long—three days is enough!"
Killing Dagger nodded.
"Wait for my word."
With that, under Laxi's respectful gaze, he boarded the armored off-road vehicle parked at the camp entrance and drove off toward the port...
Chapter 709