Chapter 584

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Protagonist:

Chen Yi

The Saint Qiao Kingdom claims to be a Magic Kingdom, but their number of Red Robe Mages isn't large either; counting civilian ones, it wouldn't exceed a hundred people. In fact, those who heed the orders of the Royal Family or the Mage Tower number merely twenty or thirty.

In terms of preciousness, Red Robe Mages are in no way inferior to Holy Knights, and their status is exalted; making them give up their power and magic is practically asking for their lives.

While Chen Yi fell silent, Timothy had already begun pondering the question of who could be sacrificed.

Losing any single Red Robe Mage would hurt sinew and bone; the Saint Qiao Kingdom had only just returned to the ranks of Strong Nations, and if possible, he truly didn't want to lose a Red Robe Mage.

However, if the Master strongly insisted... Timothy prioritized the Master's preferences.

After about three to five minutes, Chen Yi spoke first: "Any Red Robe Mage will do?"

The solemn atmosphere made hearts palpitate; Timothy and the others secretly breathed a sigh of relief and replied: "Yes, Master. As long as a Red Robe Mage is willing to sacrifice and contribute their power, any Red Robe Mage can produce it."

The instantly declining magic level would bring a massive amount of Source Energy, an amount so large that even a Grand Mage often couldn't summon it; using it to produce a single Scroll is actually a waste.

Chen Yi wasn't particularly concerned about Timothy's attitude; proceeding from his own considerations, he asked: "I heard the war on the Front Line is going smoothly for you; can you find some captured Red Robe Mages to produce Scrolls?"

"This..." Timothy lowered his head and said quietly: "Master, all Red Robe Mages are under the protection of the Mage Tower; forcibly making them lose magic levels is not allowed. Besides, we only captured 7 Red Robe Mages."

For many Mages, the nation is one matter, and the Mage community is another.

Chen Yi smacked his lips, laughed, and said: "Still better than losing your own Red Robe Mages, right? If you're worried about reputation, then change the method. There should be quite a few small nations suing for peace with you by now, no?"

Speaking of the war, Mage Timothy couldn't help but look smug, his humility rising two degrees, and laughed: "The Western Front was defeated long ago, the East Line Allied Forces have also collapsed; now only the Wild Army Corps still resists stubbornly. For the other kingdoms that haven't surrendered, occupation is only a matter of time."

"Then, perhaps you can propose to these small nations the production of one or two 'Aging' Scrolls."

Chen Yi stopped there, and Timothy began turning over ideas in his mind.

If Scrolls were incorporated into negotiations, it would naturally bypass the series of treaties upheld by the Mage Tower. The current problem was whether those kingdoms were willing, or rather, whether they had the capability to let one or two Red Robe Mages be sacrificed.

Some small kingdoms usually have only a few Red Robe Mages; there are quite a few Principalities with only a single hired Red Robe Mage.

Leaving aside those foreign Mages, the native Red Robe Mages of those countries are often quite patriotic. Especially those Principalities with only a single native Red Robe Mage — their Mages usually have even more spirit of dedication than those of large nations.

From the Saint Qiao Kingdom's perspective, losing one or two Red Robe Mages would also be fatal for those kingdoms; at least for the next fifty years, they would find it hard to recover.

Thinking up to here, Timothy nodded quietly and said: "Master, I'll organize manpower to handle this later. I wonder, how many Aging Scrolls do you need?"

"How many to kill a Dragon?"

Timothy didn't dare lie; gritting his teeth, he said: "Best case is two sheets; if it fails, we have to start over."

Cultivating a Red Robe takes 50 years; two Aging Scrolls equals contributing the entire strength of two small Principalities. The Legendary Mages of the past actually relied on the Dragon Hall's accumulation over many years.

Chen Yi estimated: just the number of temples on the West Continent is no less than 20; if each temple also has multiple Dragons...

"The more the better." Chen Yi gave such an answer, and before Timothy could react, asked: "What materials do you need?"

"Level 12 Scroll paper, preferably metal." Paper made from hardwoods like sandalwood, after special processing, can possibly produce Level 12 Scroll paper; for Chen Yi, these aren't a problem at all, and metal paper isn't hard either — the difficulty is Level 12 metal paper.

However, the paper company Chen Yi invested in years ago has been at it for 3 years now; they've researched countless special papers, so surely there's a matching suitable one.

"I'll go find a way to get it; additionally, I'll increase the material supply to you."

"Many thanks, Master." Timothy's face bloomed with joy. The Saint Qiao Army was practically at the stage of unlimited Scroll usage; under such circumstances, even an ordinary Mage could exert the power of a Grand Mage — this is the main guarantee of the Saint Qiao Army's successive victories.

Upon returning Domestic, Chen Yi began frantic procurement. Global production of Iridium-Osmium Alloy isn't high — partly due to scarcity, partly due to lackluster demand — but their inventory isn't small, actual reserves aren't low either, and with various recycling methods, aside from raising prices, quantity isn't lacking.

After these Iridium-Osmium Alloys were delivered, they were separately forged into sharp Long Spears, sharp Bullets, and sharp Missiles — especially the Northern Industry company manufacturing the Missiles, which loathed Chen Yi's requirements.

What kind of perverse taste would insist on ruining aerodynamic streamlining just to put a sharp long nose on the front end of a Missile? And make it out of Iridium-Osmium Alloy at that — in fact, Chen Yi also demanded the Missile fly faster. Even when engineers explained that this air-to-ship and ground-to-ship Missile's ability to pierce 200mm deck armor was useless.

A Dragon's hide is far harder than 200mm steel plate.

Chen Group's Equipment Procurement Department moved fast in and fast out; within a single week, they nearly bought up the world's Iridium-Osmium inventory. By the time bandwagon speculators wanted to get in on the action, there was almost nothing left to buy.

Northern Heavy Industries Group urgently completed 4 Missiles and several dozen super Long Spears, but on the eve of shipping them to the West Continent, Chen Yi stopped Mo Shaoqiu and said quietly: "Pause the ship carrying the Missiles; don't send them to the West Continent yet."

He didn't want to "intimidate" the Divine Dragon without Scrolls in hand; who knows what weird abilities those strange fellows have.

Mo Shaoqiu didn't quite understand, frowned, and said: "The West Continent is the safest place; keeping them in Jiangning still carries risk."

"I'll give Zhu Guangliang a heads-up, park them for another half month, one month at most."

"One month!" Mo Shaoqiu's head ached terribly; helplessly he said: "These crates hold Missiles; parking for a month... forget it. I dare say there's no arms dealer like me in the whole world — preparing weeks in advance, then letting it sit at one of the world's largest ports, just not shipping it out."

Chen Yi laughed and patted Mo Shaoqiu's shoulder: "Don't worry."

However, the container ship's docking time far exceeded one month.

Because production of the Level 12 metal paper required for the Scrolls was extremely difficult, and convincing certain Principalities' Red Robe Mages took more than just 30 days.

The ship carrying the Missiles just drifted there at Jiangbei Wharf.

Agents across from the ship bought KFC, bought McDonald's, ate bread, ate Barbecue; the whole crew got canker sores, yet they still didn't wait for that ship to ship out — anyone who buys 4 Missiles has every reason to be surveilled.

And above the South Wharf nearest to West Jiang Port, inside a certain rust-streaked Container, two guys surviving on Compressed Biscuits and Mineral Water were about to go mad.

"Wait one more day, if no change after one more day, we go back and report that we lost them." The stubble-faced man sat bare-chested, eyes glued to the computer screen, the latter directly linked to the Surveillance Camera ahead, facing Jiangbei Wharf 3 kilometers away.

To get into this Container, they'd expended no small amount of Resources.

"You said that yesterday, the day before, and the day before that — we still haven't lost them. The crates with the Missiles are right inside; I've watched the footage several times, nothing was taken away."

"Talk is talk, but those Missiles... are too weird."

The stubble-faced man wrinkled his nose twice: "Your feet are what's weird; what the hell is this smell?"

"Last week I said I wanted to wash my feet, you wouldn't let me; now you understand, right?"

"Don't whine like you're my wife; damn it, I thought before leaving it was a one-week mission, who knew I'd be stuck for three months; these biscuits are truly disgusting to eat."

"The remaining Compressed Biscuits and Mineral Water can last another month; if that ship still doesn't move, we can start drinking urine — want to take turns?"

"Don't say such disgusting things, wait..."

"Really swap?"

"Your stinking feet—don't even dream of drinking my piss... that ship's moving." The bearded, stubbly man adjusted the focus of the surveillance camera.

"Entering dry dock?"

"It's new cargo—they've loaded new cargo onto the ship again."

Stinking Feet Man leapt up, the hand that had just been picking his foot resting on the keyboard, watching and saying: "Container truck, old vehicle, new container, serial number repainted, reinforced corners... just like the boxes that carry missiles."

"There are six containers here—could they be six more missiles?"

"Impossible, these are the most advanced anti-ship missiles." The bearded, stubbly man said, his eyes glazing over, involuntarily: "Ten anti-ship missiles, do you know how much they'd sell for?"

"Surely plenty of people would be willing to buy..."

"No ship in the world could guarantee blocking such a missile, let alone a passenger liner." The bearded, stubbly man licked his lips, his face full of greed.

Stinking Feet Man asked carefully: "Should... we notify the Organization?"

"It's a shame to let go. Forget it, notify them—ten missiles, we can't swallow them, at least a hundred million US dollars; if the Organization sells them, they could be worth a billion."

"If the Organization rewards us with a million, I'll be satisfied." Stinking Feet Man said, starting to put on his clothes, a smile spreading across his face.

Being able to escape this damn container was roughly more exciting than a million.

The bearded, stubbly man opened his switched-off mobile phone, changed the ending number of a spam email to 10, then pressed the send key, and smiled: "I think the old men in the Organization must be even more uncomfortable than us—the Jiangning Chen Family's stuff looks good but isn't edible."

... (Unfinished. If you like this work, welcome to Qidian (qidian. com) to vote with Recommendation Tickets and Monthly Tickets; your support is my greatest motivation.)