Chapter 109

“Vernna.”

Sakavi’s voice turned to the shadow standing silently beside him, low and clear.

“Within three months, I want you to map every corner of all ancient ruins on the western side of Shilishi Continent.”

He paused briefly, letting the weight of the mission settle.

“The demons lurking there are no low-grade vermin—they’re organized, nest-holding high-grade Abyssal legions. More importantly, the knowledge buried beneath those ruins will drive every faction mad.”

His gaze was sharp as a blade.

“The Alliance hasn’t turned its eyes there yet, but time is not on our side. Soon, adventurers’ guilds sensing opportunity, mage organizations with hidden agendas, and even our ‘allies’’ secret reconnaissance teams will swoop down like vultures upon that unclaimed land.”

“Your mission isn’t just reconnaissance,” Sakavi’s claw traced an invisible line in the air, as if sketching future defenses, “I need you to identify key coordinates most suitable for establishing forward fortresses while mapping terrain, enemy strength, and value. While others are still assessing risks, our foundation must already be laid.”

“I will personally carry out this mission. I need Talie’s subordinates to assist me—her harpies, worgs, and goblins have been invaluable to me.”

Sakavi’s voice sank like rolling thunder, his dragon pupils devoid of any trace of jest, now only heavy as cooled metal.

“Shalut, lead the Axe, Fang, and Cast-Iron regiments eastward along Broken Blade Gorge. Your objective is Stonekeep. I want you to bring the entire gorge region fully under our control.”

He paused slightly, letting the warning seep into the air.

“The demons entrenched there are no rabble—they’re the Abyss’s long-established main force, fierce and stubborn. You have little time. Before the Alliance’s flank forces arrive and ‘take over’ that region, our banner must fly atop Stonekeep’s highest tower.”

Sakavi leaned forward slightly, shadows falling like curtains, his voice dropping to a near-whisper, yet each word a nail forged in fire:

“Remember, from the moment you step out of this place, every person you see may hold a poisoned dagger; every voice you hear may conceal a twisted trap. The Abyss will strike back, and even ‘friends’ within the Alliance may become vultures—and even…”

The gold in his dragon pupils sharpened abruptly.

“If you receive any order purporting to come from me—turn back, retreat, or wait—it is a meticulously forged lie. From the moment you march out, you are alone. Your only proof is the axe in your hand and the legion behind you.”

“Take Stonekeep. Control the gorge. Beyond that, you have no retreat, no reinforcements.”

Shalut pressed a hand to his chest and bowed. When he straightened, his gaze had hardened like cast iron.

“Since I took command, my battle flags have never retreated half a step,” he said, voice quiet but as certain as an axe cleaving rock, “Stonekeep and Broken Blade Gorge will be under our banner within two months. I swear it by the God of War, ‘Ferlon.’”

He lifted his eyes, a glint of blade-like coldness flashing deep within his pupils.

“The Alliance’s flank plans are loud,” Shalut’s lips curled into a cold, rigid smile, “but they’ve forgotten one thing—on the chessboard of Shilishi Continent, the one who moves first holds the power of life and death.”

“I will make the bricks of Stonekeep remember our banner before they even arrive.” He gripped his axe handle, knuckles cracking faintly, “The entire gorge will become an iron wall they can never touch.”

Sakavi’s voice turned to the druid beside him, heavy with unyielding judgment.

“Gisk is a sharp claw, but too young. Once the fortress at Darkspine Pass begins construction, it’s like throwing fresh meat into a flock of vultures—the Alliance’s gaze will instantly turn sharp and hostile. After all, far more than just us are watching this choke point.”

His dragon pupils swirled with insight into the complex situation.

“So I need you to stay. With your ancient, root-like patience and wisdom, handle two matters for me:”

First, the sharp questions and hidden traps that will inevitably arrive wrapped in diplomatic language. They dare not openly tear away the veil, but they’ll pressure us with rules, public opinion, and contracts. You handle them—let every punch land like a blow against an ancient oak: powerful, but with no purchase.

“Second—and more fundamental—the purification and awakening of the land. Gisk can build walls, but only you can make the soil within them stop eroding us. I don’t want just a hand gripping a red-hot iron.”

“I can accomplish this. I need you to deliver purification materials quickly. Also, the shallows along Poison Mire cannot accommodate large ships, and Norasien Port isn’t ready yet—this is a major problem for our next steps. Do you have a contingency?”

“Large ships can’t dock at shallows, but small boats can; the port isn’t built, but that doesn’t stop us from establishing temporary transfer nodes. Use a fleet of agile small vessels to disperse cargo. Your purification materials will arrive before next month.”

…………

As Sakavi stepped into the main hall of Agrik Castle, a figure meticulously maintaining a high elf illusion stepped forward silently.

Livorg—not Mr. Melo—wore a smile perfectly calibrated, blending deference with a hint of self-congratulation. His molten-gold vertical pupils glowed with soft luminescence beneath the illusion, masking his triumph.

“My Lord Duke, may the Morning Star illuminate your return,” he bowed with elven grace, voice light, “I bring you a gift… one I believe will ease your burdens. It may well be the most pleasant news you’ve heard in this time.”

He paused slightly, savoring the effect his next words would produce.

“I’ve just… secured from our beloved ‘partner,’ the Golden Radiance Sanctum, a special fund.” His smile deepened, “And one with no interest attached. I trust this might… slightly alleviate the urgent need for port reconstruction?”

Sakavi halted before the Throne, not turning. His dragon tail dragged low and heavy across the stone, his vertical pupils glancing sideways at Melo, the molten-gold glow holding no surprise—only cold, penetrating scrutiny.

“That ‘silent’ gold coin in your claw…” his voice rose like slow, subterranean magma, “what price is engraved on the other side?”

Melo’s smile faded half a notch, replaced by a candid, almost admiring resignation. He bowed slightly, posture still elegant, voice lowered, more solemn.

“Indeed, nothing escapes your insight.” He admitted cleanly, “Sanazhuo demands we immediately, using our own channels, transport a group of their people into the Abyssal Plane. As for how, or where exactly—they seem… indifferent.”

He paused, observing Sakavi’s reaction, his voice now carrying a touch of green dragon’s cold calculation.

“So I approved it without seeking your consent. I believe letting the Golden Radiance Sanctum’s tendrils reach into our territory sooner, though seemingly disadvantageous, actually gives Verina, as a drow elf, a thousand ways to make them spin uselessly in place.”

A low, nearly satisfied resonance rumbled in Sakavi’s throat. He finally turned fully, his molten-gold pupils fixed on Melo, as if weighing the true value of every decision.

“You did well.” Simple as it was, this acknowledgment from a black dragon was the highest praise.

“I will have Verina personally arrange the ‘reception.’ It’s time for the Golden Radiance Sanctum’s honored guests… to experience firsthand why even Abyssal lords think thrice before entering a drow elf’s banquet hall.”

His dragon maw slightly parted, revealing a sliver of razor-white fangs—not a smile, but something colder.

“Then—” the black dragon’s tone shifted abruptly, “where are the materials I requested?”

“Ah, regarding procurement…” the duke’s voice lowered, adopting the tone of sharing a secret, “the Ashfire Brotherhood—the very faction that’s always at odds with the Golden Radiance Sanctum—offered a price half of Sanazhuo’s.”

He paused briefly, letting the number sink into the air.

“Of course, their channels and methods… are somewhat ‘unconventional,’ even bordering on ‘gray zones.’ But undeniable—”

Melo’s fingertip traced an elegant arc symbolizing savings, “this saves us an enormous sum of gold. Enough to fully rebuild the port’s eastern docks and shipyards.”

He raised his eyes, carefully watching Sakavi’s reaction, tone respectful yet layered with meaning: “I believe limited funds must yield maximum utility. But I wonder, my Lord—do you wish to bear a slight, minor ‘risk’ for such ‘efficiency’?”

“Let me guess…” his voice dropped to the whisper of tectonic rock grinding, “the gold I spent didn’t buy you those ‘nightmare spore’ variants that require nourishment drawn from desecrated corpses, did it?”

Sakavi’s neck leaned forward slightly, shadows engulfing Livorg’s carefully maintained illusion.

“Then tell me, my ‘clever and capable’ Mr. Melo—”

Sakavi’s tail rose dangerously, “how deft were your claws during the transport of these ‘cost-effective’ goods? And how much ‘labor fee’ slipped, quite naturally, into your dimensional pouch?”

“My Lord, you’re mistaken—I’m innocent,” his voice carried the tone of offended purity, yet retained meticulous precision. “How would I dare use crude, unstable, easily detectable old-gen spores to deceive you? I procured the seventh-generation improved strain from ‘Deep Red Scholar’ Lavag’s lab.”

He stepped half-forward, voice shifting to a technical report: “It can be directly implanted into preliminarily purified soil, requiring no intact sentient corpses. But cultivation conditions remain harsh.”

“It requires regular irrigation with fresh blood—preferably from life-rich humanoids or large beasts—to activate its metabolism. And during growth, it efficiently absorbs and concentrates Abyssal chaotic elements from the soil.”

He paused, brow slightly furrowed, perfectly conveying honest frustration over technical hurdles.

“This is precisely its greatest value and risk: it accelerates land purification, but the concentrated chaotic elements temporarily accumulate within the fungi, forming unstable ‘Abyssal Crystalline Cores.’”

“How to handle these cores afterward—to prevent secondary contamination or accidental explosions—requires an additional, expensive refining process.”

“I admit this solution isn’t flawless,” Melo bowed slightly, posture submissive but words clear, “but it’s three times faster than traditional purification and costs half of Golden Radiance’s quote. Every gold coin’s use is recorded via magical contract—no embezzlement.”

“Your wisdom, my Lord…” he inhaled softly, as if sighing, as if admiring, “penetrates all veils.”

He no longer tried to deny it, but gracefully spread his hands in a gesture of surrender: “Indeed, an Fushu 《Crystalline Core Recovery and Processing Agreement》… was a prerequisite for this deal.”

“‘Deep Red Scholar’s’ lab needs these high-purity chaotic crystals as raw material for further research, and we, in turn, dispose of these dangerous byproducts at far below market price.”

“So the blame falls on me, and the gold ends up in your pocket, correct, dear Mr. Melo?”

“A misunderstanding! What if you take seventy percent?”

Indeed, a supplementary Agreement on Crystal Core Recovery and Processing... is a prerequisite for this transaction to be valid.

The laboratory of the Crimson Scholar requires these high-purity Chaos Crystals as raw material for further research, and we can dispose of these dangerous byproducts at a price far below market value.

So the blame falls on me, while the money ends up in your pocket, correct, dear Mr. Melo?

A misunderstanding! How about you take seventy percent of this money?

Done!