That day, the South Shore Wharf on the God's Eye was alive with noise and excitent.
After months of construction, the wharf personally planned by Luke and overseen by Matthew was finally complete.
Colorful flags fluttered above it. House Jaqenion's "black dragon on red" banner snapped sharply in the lake wind.
Hundreds of local folk and craftsn gathered along the shore to witness this historic mont.
Luke stood on the viewing platform, looking down at the brand-new wharf.
The main body was built from solid stone blocks and stretched fifty ters out into the lake.
Ten sleek green boats were neatly moored along the shore.
They were fiberglass fishing boats from Earth, each 8.2 ters long and 2.3 ters wide, with graceful lines that glead with a warm luster in the sunlight.
Fitted with powerful diesel outboard motors, they could reach a top speed of 30 knots.
Lined up beside them were twenty smaller plastic fishing boats, also equipped with outboards. Though they looked unassuming, they were rugged and durable—ideal for carrying supplies and troops.
Looking at the speedboats, the lody of the "Fangchenggang March"—the Rainy Night Piano DJ version—suddenly rang in Luke's ears:
"Piano sitting alone by the glass window watching the raindrops// Slight chill of this lonely midnight hour// I play the piano and watch the rain// Unintentionally playing an old tune once more…"
Luke was montarily stunned. "I'm not even scrolling Douyin right now—where is this music coming from?"
In a trance he seed to hear a devilish whisper in his ear: "If you're down on your luck, skip Beijing, Shanghai, or Guangzhou—start a business and head straight to Fangchenggang!"
…
"South Shore Wharf." Luke nodded in satisfaction and said to Arthur beside him, "As for the North Shore Wharf… we'll think about it once Harrenhal belongs to us."
Arthur bowed respectfully, already silently calculating the cost of the fleet in his head.
He had no idea the boats ca from another world; he only knew that their lord could always produce all kinds of inconceivable "magical items."
Luke gazed across the wide lake surface, a surge of ambition rising in his chest.
The God's Eye stretched roughly two hundred kiloters from north to south—the largest inland lake in Westeros.
It connected to the Blackwater River via the Trident, giving direct access to Blackwater Bay near King's Landing.
In history, small vessels had once sailed from the God's Eye to deliver supplies to King's Landing… proof that it possessed real shipping potential.
From the very first day he arrived at the God's Eye, Luke had found it unbelievable that such a vast body of water had no proper wharf along its shores.
It was downright ridiculous.
The God's Eye was far more than just a water source.
It was an enormous navigable waterway. Controlling the lake ant controlling the throat of the entire region.
More importantly… controlling the God's Eye was the sa as controlling Harrenhal.
Harrenhal sat on the north shore—the colossal fortress once belonging to Black Harren. Though now ruined, it remained one of the Riverlands' most vital military strongholds.
A true "contested ground for every army."
If Luke ever decided to move on Harrenhal, the God's Eye would be his perfect invasion route.
At 30 knots he could reach the north shore from the south in under four hours—more than ten tis faster than marching overland.
In the future he could simply bring larger ships from Earth, ferry over a thousand troops in a single trip, and launch a surprise assault on Harrenhal… Just imagining the scene made his blood boil with excitent.
"From this day forward," Luke declared in a deep voice, "this entire waterway is closed to outsiders. No one may pass except the armies of House Jaqenion."
Arthur nodded and made a note.
As for the Isle of Faces—the island at the center of the God's Eye—Luke already had new plans for it.
He would build a sumr palace there, turning it into his personal resort.
"Let's go take a look at the island."
Luke waved his hand and stepped aboard the nearest fishing boat.
Mars and Syrio followed close behind.
Mars was the captain of the family guard that Luke had personally promoted—quiet, loyal, and utterly obedient to every order.
The remaining nine speedboats quickly filled with elite guards, twenty per boat.
Engines roared. The ten boats shot forward like arrows across the erald lake, carving white wakes behind them.
Lake wind rushed against their faces, carrying the fresh scent of water.
Luke stood at the bow, eyes fixed on the island gradually sharpening in the distance.
The Isle of Faces.
The central island of the God's Eye, roughly three kiloters across.
From a drone's-eye view it was completely covered in dense forest—every tree a weirwood, a heart tree.
This was the only place in the south where weirwoods still grew.
A cold glint flashed in Luke's eyes.
Nearly ten thousand years ago, the First n and the Children of the Forest had signed their pact right here, ending decades of war. The pact granted humans the coasts and plains while the forests would forever belong to the Children.
To let the Old Gods bear witness, every weirwood on the island had been carved with a human face—hence the na Isle of Faces.
Ten thousand years had passed. The First n had long rged with the Andals, and the Children had vanished from history. Only this weirwood forest remained, standing silently on the island as witness to a forgotten age.
The fleet drew slowly alongside the island.
Luke jumped ashore, feet sinking into soft soil, and stared at the lush forest before him.
The weirwoods carved with faces looked especially eerie in the sunlight… each face vivid and lifelike, as if ready to open its eyes at any mont.
"Enemies eting, eyes especially red," Luke murmured.
Mars beside him blinked. "My lord?"
"Once the survey is finished," Luke said calmly, "send n to cut down every last weirwood on this island. Burn the wood for fuel and build a brickworks right here—saves us on firewood."
Mars paused for half a second, then bowed. "As you command."
So of the attendants looked puzzled, but no one voiced objection.
The Faith of the Old Gods had little hold in the south anyway. The only reason these weirwoods had survived was the ancient pact.
Now that the Children were gone, the pact was void.
Luke stared at the faces carved into the trunks, the corner of his mouth curling into a cold smile.
"From now on, it won't be called the Isle of Faces anymore."
Over the next three days the entire island turned into a massive construction site.
Luke transferred two thousand n from the south shore. Five hundred were Jaqenion family guards; they would build barracks, train, and turn the Isle of Faces into a military fortress on the God's Eye.
The remaining fifteen hundred were territory laborers tasked with felling weirwoods, constructing docks, a brickworks, and the sumr palace.
Luke also planned to build a shipyard here.
Burning an entire weirwood forest felt sowhat wasteful, yet using the wood to build houses made his skin crawl—every log had a face staring back at you.
Ships, however, were perfect. He certainly wouldn't sail on weirwood vessels himself. If anyone ever rebelled in the future, he could send them out to sea in weirwood ships…
The two thousand n conducted a thorough sweep of the island.
Luke even deployed drones and infrared detectors from Earth, scanning every inch of ground.
No trace of the Children of the Forest was found.
No living humans either.
The island showed no signs of past human habitation. Aside from the face-carved weirwoods, everything remained in its primordial state.
At first so locals were reluctant to cut the face-carved weirwoods, fearing they would anger the Old Gods and invite a curse.
After all, legend said chopping down heart trees was a grave sacrilege.
Luke said nothing. He simply perford "creation from nothing" in front of several hundred people.
With a casual wave he produced one thousand sacks of grain out of thin air.
They were wheat and rice he had transported from his Los Angeles warehouse on Earth, piled neatly into a small mountain on the open ground.
Everyone froze.
After a brief silence the crowd erupted in earth-shaking cheers.
"A miracle! This is a miracle!"
"Our lord truly is a god!"
So wept with emotion; others dropped to their knees and kowtowed repeatedly to Luke.
A loud voice rang out from the crowd: "What do you know! Lord Luke is a Celestial Dragon—the most noble magical bloodline!"
Another voice imdiately followed: "Lord Luke is the incarnation of the Seven! The Seven be praised!"
Luke's mouth twitched slightly.
The Seven? He had nothing to do with the Seven. But the locals clearly didn't care about details. In their eyes, a lord who could conjure food from thin air was a living god.
After that "miracle," no one dared question the order to fell the weirwoods. On the contrary, the laborers threw themselves into the work with fiery enthusiasm, as if chopping the trees was an honor.
"Lord Luke's will guides us!"
Just as Luke was about to board a boat back to the south shore, good news arrived.
"My lord!" A captain in Jaqenion uniform ran up quickly and snapped a crisp West Sea military salute. "While the island garrison was searching, a civilian found a strange egg inside a cave!"
Luke raised an eyebrow. "An egg?"
The captain swallowed hard, barely containing his excitent. "My lord… it looks like… a dragon egg!"
Luke's eyes lit up. "Bring it to !"
Monts later a soldier hurried over, carefully carrying a cloth-wrapped bundle.
The layers of fabric were peeled back, revealing a huge egg.
It was a red dragon egg.
The shell was a deep, dark crimson covered in fine scale-like patterns that glowed with a warm luster in the sunlight.
It was the size of an adult's head, heavy in the hands, and carried a faint, hidden warmth from within.
There was no doubt.
It was a dragon egg.
Luke held the crimson egg in silence for a long ti.
Everyone around him held their breath.
A dragon egg… the descendant of the giant dragons that had gone extinct a hundred and fifty years ago!
In all of Westeros, perhaps only the oldest families still kept dragon eggs as ancestral treasures.
Yet here on this small island in the center of the God's Eye, they had found one?
After a mont Luke looked up, gazing at the weirwood forest currently being felled across the island.
The Isle of Faces.
Ten thousand years ago the First n and the Children of the Forest signed their pact here. One hundred and fifty years ago the dragons of House Targaryen went extinct here.
And now…
A dragon egg had appeared in his hands.
A slow smile spread across Luke's lips.
It seed this island he had labeled "of no particular value" still held quite a few secrets.
"Pass the order," Luke said in a low voice. "While felling the weirwoods, have every cave on the island searched thoroughly. Leave no inch of ground untouched."
He looked down at the red dragon egg in his hands and murmured:
"Who knows… there may be more surprises."
On the return voyage, Luke began thinking about whether he should bring so sonar detection equipnt across…
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