Chapter 111. Good Nephew, Your Uncle Has Co to Find You
The snow was still falling over Winter City, but now the flakes drifting down upon the city were scattered by waves of heat before they even touched the ground.
If the old Winter City had once been like a hibernating bear, then the current Winter City was like a bull injected with stimulants, brimming with boundless strength and restless energy.
Even the most stubborn old nobles had learned how to speak properly after seeing the two rows of “sunny dolls” swaying in the wind over the square.
The new judicial system was implented with astonishing smoothness.
The tangled network of noble courts was kicked aside in one stroke, replaced by a far more efficient and transparent modern court system—though, of course, it was also far less sentintal.
anwhile, Logaris West’s Prefecture-County System pilot program was also expanding.
The confiscated noble territories were reorganized and redrawn.
The group of young aides under Sylvia Van Astrelia put on brand-new uniforms and beca the first batch of Mayors and County Magistrates.
These young people were sharp-minded and hardworking.
More importantly, they had known poverty all their lives and were long tired of living beneath the oppression of the old nobles.
Now that power was finally in their hands, they worked with ruthless determination, as if they did not care whether they lived or died.
In the Northern Territory’s industrial district, within the enormous pit known as the Heart of Winter Industrial Park, the sounds of hamring and the roaring of magitech engines echoed day and night.
Towering smokestacks rose from the ground like bamboo shoots after rain, billowing thick black smoke.
Environntalists might consider the sight a vision of hell.
But in the eyes of a finance officer like Grayson, That drifting black smoke was not soot at all—it was pure profit rising into the sky.
The first phase of factory buildings would clearly be ready for operation by the ti spring arrived.
Rail tracks had already been laid to the foot of the mines.
The cartloads being transported were not rely stones, but the very capital that would allow the Northern Territory to stand tall in the future.
The investors who had originally been lured in by that wave of Fleeting Youth potions were no longer shouting for refunds when they saw this montum.
Instead, they began increasing their investnts.
Even the shrewdest bankers had started establishing offices in Winter City, plotting how to claim their share of this erging market.
On the terrace of the Governor’s Residence.
Logaris West leaned back in a chair with one leg crossed over the other, flipping through the black-covered Book of Prophecy with loud rustling sounds.
It was obvious that nothing major would happen next.
【January 3rd: Lady Lister’s cat will fall from a tree at three in the afternoon and land on a passing baker.】
【January 4th: The sewer in the eastern district will be clogged by rotten cabbages carelessly thrown away.】
“Tsk.”
Logaris West tossed the book onto the table and removed his glasses to wipe them.
“How boring. The peace in this world is making uncomfortable.”
Life in the Northern Territory was flourishing, thriving with unstoppable montum.
But on the other side of the world, the atmosphere was far from festive.
…
Demi-Human Empire, Imperial Capital, Ronax City, inside the Throne Hall.
The Regent, Remington Huiyin, sat upon the golden throne that symbolized supre authority.
This warlord, usually known for his iron-blooded thods, looked as if he had aged ten years overnight.
Large bags hung beneath his eyes, and the bloodshot veins within them were so dense they seed ready to bleed.
Below him, an intelligence officer knelt on the floor with his forehead pressed against the ground, hardly daring to breathe.
“Speak.”
Remington’s voice was hoarse, as though his throat were filled with sand.
The intelligence officer trembled and held up the report in his hands.
“Your Majesty… regarding the news about the ‘Ritual of the Ri Valley Sacrifice.’ Although we sealed the borders imdiately, the news spread as if it had grown legs. It simply cannot be stopped. Those portable Communication Crystals have beco far too widespread. Just as we finish issuing a denial here, the rumors have already reached the most remote villages.”
“What are they saying?”
“They… they say that you pursued victory at any cost, colluding with a cult and sacrificing your own soldiers. They also say… that the death of the late emperor may have been suspicious as well.”
The intelligence officer’s voice grew quieter with every word.
Remington let out a cold laugh.
All of this was within his expectations.
Compared to these rumors, what troubled him more was the attitude of those old foxes.
“What about the military command?”
“Uh…” The intelligence officer lowered his head even further. “The commander of the Silver Legion submitted a petition last night, claiming that his old wounds have flared up and that his legs hurt so badly he cannot get out of bed. He requested leave to recuperate. The commander of the Blazing Fla Legion said his elderly mother is critically ill, so he returned to his hotown to fulfill his filial duties. As for today’s imperial council eting… those generals will most likely not attend.”
Ill?
Filial duty?
Nonsense.
Those old bastards were strong enough to punch a bull to death.
They had never fallen ill before, yet suddenly they were all sick at this mont.
Remington waved his hand and dismissed the intelligence officer.
The great hall fell silent, leaving him alone.
He stood up and walked to the massive continental map hanging on the wall.
The map was stitched together from animal hides of different colors, with small flags marking the various powers scattered across it.
Remington stared at the region of the Northern Territory.
If he were a foolish tyrant, he would already be flying into a rage, overturning tables, and dragging a few unlucky n out to be executed to vent his anger.
But Remington was no fool.
Anyone capable of seizing the throne was never rely a brute who relied on strength alone.
He reviewed the entire war in his mind.
Where had he lost?
Military strength?
No. A demi-human warrior could still fight two humans at once. That had never changed.
Tactics?
Not that either. Even when caught in traps, the execution ability of the demi-human legions remained first-rate.
They had lost because of those cursed iron machines.
“The tis have changed.”
Remington’s finger traced across the position of the Northern Territory, leaving a deep scratch across the map.
“Claws and fangs alone can no longer bite through those steel cans.”
If nothing changed, the Demi-Human Empire would eventually beco nothing more than a single line in a history book—or a specin displayed in a Northern Territory museum.
“Guards.”
The doors of the great hall opened.
“Transmit my orders.”
Remington turned around, and a spark returned to his clouded eyes.
It was the gaze of a gambler who had wagered everything in a desperate situation—both madness and calm intertwined.
“Summon the best craftsn and alchemists in the empire. I do not care whether they are human, dwarf, or goblin. As long as they have brains in their heads, bring them to .”
“Additionally, allocate the tax revenue from the past three years from the national treasury. I will be sending a group of people abroad.”
The attending officer froze in surprise.
“Abroad? Where to?”
“Across the ocean.”
Remington pointed toward the blue region on the far eastern side of the map.
“To the comrcial federation called riga. I have heard they have been conducting sothing called a ‘Magitech Industrial Revolution’ in recent years, and it is flourishing.”
“Select the most intelligent young mbers of our race. Stuff all those noble heirs who spend their days gambling and cockfighting into ships as well. Send them to learn. To steal. To strip their technology bare and swallow it whole before bringing it back!”
“Learn the strengths of the barbarians to defeat the barbarians.”
Remington forced the words through clenched teeth.
“We cannot continue forging nothing but axes. We must also forge rifles, cannons, and factories!”
The attending officer stared at him in stunned silence.
Was this truly the Regent who had always insisted that “demi-humans will never be slaves” and that “tradition is supre”?
“Why are you still standing there? Go!”
“Yes, Your Majesty!”
By the ti this entire ss had been handled, it was already deep into the night.
Remington dragged his exhausted body back to the royal bedchamber.
The day had been too exhausting. The tension in his mind felt as though it might snap at any mont.
But every ti he closed his eyes, a figure appeared in his thoughts.
That nephew who had escaped.
Alectos Huiyin.
The “legitimate heir” who should have been sitting on the throne—only to be crushed by him like an ant.
As long as that boy remained alive, he would never sit comfortably upon this golden throne.
“Where are you…” Remington murmured as he lay on the bed, his consciousness gradually fading.
…
The dream ca suddenly.
Remington found himself standing in a long corridor.
Torches burned on both sides, their flas glowing a sickly green, stretching his shadow into a long, twisted shape.
This was not his bedchamber.
It was the passage leading to the old Throne Hall.
He held a sword in his hand, and the tip scraped against the ground with a piercing tallic sound.
“Alectos…”
He muttered under his breath.
“Good nephew, your uncle has co to find you. Co out now. Stop hiding.”
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