Chapter 305

The spire-topped fortress sits on a steep sea cliff, the imperial flag snapping in the high-altitude wind.

The spacious harbor is packed with sailing warships and steam supply ships, with soldiers and dockworkers moving to and fro in a hurried, tidal flow.

This is Saint Yierburg, the Empire's key military stronghold in the New World and the hub of the "Northwest Wind Route."

Half a year ago, when the Hell legions raided Sardo Port, General Hamilton's troops set out from here to provide reinforcements.

The weather outside the fortress is good today; the sky is clear and cloudless, with seagulls circling around the flags.

Yet, the damp saltiness carried by the sea breeze still lingers in the air.

Just two weeks ago, a sudden storm struck this place and lasted for an entire week.

Fortunately, Saint Yierburg has sturdy stone walls, meticulous underground drainage channels, and, most crucially, a spellcasting corps.

Under the protection of the barriers maintained by the mages in relay, this towering fortress managed to preserve its vitality and was not blown off the map.

That was truly a heart-stopping week.

Thinking back on it now, the soldiers in the fortress still feel a chill down their spines and are grateful for the protection of Saint Xisi.

In short, Saint Yierburg is, for the time being, unscathed.

But poor Sardo Port was not so lucky.

It was an important imperial supply port on the coast of the New World and the throat connecting the imperial mainland to the inland colonies.

Today, this port has been reduced to ruins; the harbor's floating bridges are torn apart, the warehouses swallowed by the sea, and the entire coastline looks as if it had been viciously gnawed by some giant creature, left in tatters.

Even when the Hell legions occupied it back then, they hadn't caused such severe destruction!

There are many rumors about this tsunami.

Some say it was a giant monster that suddenly appeared in the deep sea, others say it was a demon from the subspace descending upon the ocean, and some even describe it as an unspeakable conspiracy of Hell.

But regardless of what it was.

Hamilton can be certain that whatever lurked within that storm was definitely not something kind...

Inside the fortress command room, smoke swirls.

General Hamilton sits on a wide oak chair, clad in his military uniform, his expression cold and stern.

He holds a heavy pipe in his mouth, faint blue smoke rising from the brass bowl, listening motionless to the quartermaster's report, his gaze fixed intently on the strategic map spread across the table.

On that strategic map, one can see dense clusters of marker flags, with many ports and routes circled in red or marked with red crosses.

That means "temporarily out of commission."

"... This storm destroyed nearly a third of our fleet deployed on the east coast of the New World," the quartermaster said in a low voice, head bowed, "especially the supply ships stationed at Sardo Port and Seagull Bay; because they couldn't escape the storm in time, the losses were particularly heavy. Currently, all supply lines in the entire eastern region of the New World are paralyzed, and it's not just us... the other fortresses are likely having a headache right now too."

The Empire has no rivals on the Vast Ocean; the warships' usual tasks are just to support land battles or fight pirates.

As for supply ships, ordinary pirates dare not rob them, and the looted goods are hard to sell, so there's no need for advanced propulsion; sailing ships are sufficient.

The ones that suffered the most in this storm were this batch of old sailing ships.

Hamilton didn't speak, just slowly exhaled a puff of smoke.

The quartermaster's Adam's apple bobbed as he struggled to squeeze out the cruel truth.

"According to news from the rear command, it will take at least three months for them to replenish the ships and reorganize supplies! General... we must admit that we probably can't count on them for the time being."

Three months is a conservative estimate.

Although supply ships are not as troublesome as warships, requisitioning so many vessels in a short time is also an extremely difficult task.

Hamilton tapped the ash out of his pipe and said in a hoarse voice.

"Your suggestion?"

The quartermaster hesitated for a moment before speaking.

"We might have to... seek help from civilian forces."

The air was silent for a moment.

General Hamilton narrowed his eyes, lost in thought.

This statement was very cryptic; broken down, it meant nothing more than borrowing the power of the Empire's major merchant guilds.

It's not that he doesn't trust those guilds, but the prices they charge are often not cheap; seeking help from those guys might solve the immediate problem, but three months later, he would certainly face new troubles—such as being asked to turn a blind eye to their smuggling businesses.

Being able to control thousands of ships is not something an ordinary merchant can do; behind them, there are basically imperial nobles standing.

Expecting to kick these people away after draining them dry is unrealistic, and once you get on their pirate ship, it's hard to get off.

However, the reality is that the supplies in the Saint Yierburg warehouse are indeed running low; he can't convince the soldiers to agree to go hungry.

Hamilton's brows are tightly locked.

Even when facing the bombardment of Hell's magic crystal cannons, he had never felt as troubled as he does now.

Perhaps...

He can only throw this trouble to the Viceroy to decide.

Slowly taking off his pipe, Hamilton was just about to speak when a knock came at the door.

He steadied himself, signaled for the quartermaster to withdraw, and then said in a deep voice.

"Enter."

The door pushed open, and an officer in a naval uniform strode in.

He stood tall, his steps crisp, and the face under the military cap was a familiar one—it was the captain of the "Grace," Derrick Hawthorne.

This captain, who had escaped death in the storm, had just docked at Saint Yierburg and immediately requested to report important matters, so Hamilton summoned him.

Brushing past the quartermaster leaving the room, Derrick walked to the table, stood at attention, and gave a standard military salute.

"General."

Hamilton looked up at him.

"I heard you have important information to report to me in person."

Derrick nodded, his expression serious as he said.

"Yes, regarding the abnormal situation of this voyage, I have compiled it into a written report, but there are some contents I believe still need to be explained in person."

Hamilton made a "please speak" gesture.

Having received the General's tacit approval, Derrick did not hesitate and immediately recounted what he had seen and heard on the Gana Continent.

"First, regarding the regime of the region—the area is ruled by a political entity calling itself the 'Gustav United Kingdom,' and its main race is the Lizardmen common to the Whirlpool Sea coastal regions. They have their own culture and religious beliefs, and have established a relatively mature civilized society; they are not the loose primitive tribes we have encountered in the New World."

He paused, his expression solemn.

"Most shockingly, they appear to have mastered steam power technology that is more mature, and in some aspects even more advanced, than the Empire's."

The General's fingers paused slightly, and a hint of surprise and skepticism appeared on his rugged face.

Steam power technology superior to the Empire's?

How is that possible!

If that were true, the Vast Ocean should be filled with the steamships of that so-called Gustav United Kingdom, not the glorious Empire's.

Although skeptical of this intelligence provided by Derrick, General Hamilton did not interrupt him, but signaled for him to continue.

Derrick paused for a moment and continued.

"Secondly, another thing that surprised me—although this is the first time I've heard of the existence of the Gana Continent, there are already traces of imperial colonies on this land."

"Oh?"

General Hamilton's eyebrows raised; he tapped his pipe against the ashtray and said in a tone tinged with amusement, "How did our colonists colonize an area that doesn't exist on the sea charts?"

"I was also confused at first, but after contacting the local residents, I think I have found the answer."

Derrick nodded and continued cautiously.

"The local residents are mainly drifters of unknown origin; according to my observations, among them are sailors who unfortunately suffered shipwrecks, as well as descendants of missing crew members."

Hamilton grinned.

"So that's it; after all this time, the missing crew members all went there... I thought the sea area that swallows ships was just a rumor."

"This... I don't know, but according to my observations, I'm afraid it hasn't just been the last few years. According to the locals themselves, Deadwood Port has a history of over a hundred years; an imperial prince named Roxey Prince Prince Kelin rules there, and while establishing order locally, he also claimed colonization rights for the region on behalf of the Empire."

Looking at Hamilton, who wore a look of surprise, Derrick continued in a hurried tone.

"During my stay, Prince Prince Prince Kelin did not appear; in his place was his vassal—an imperial baron named Titch Cosia, who serves as the lord of the barony around Deadwood Port. As for Deadwood Port itself, it is managed by the Viceroy Kedson, appointed by Titch."

"According to the Baron's side, 'Prince Prince Prince Kelin' once had a military conflict with the Gustav United Kingdom, and a ceasefire agreement has currently been signed, leaving them in a state of truce."

"Both sides agreed to use the Sun Stair Mountains as the border and have established trade routes, maintaining peace at least on the surface."

He stopped there, his gaze lowering slightly, his tone deepening.

"I originally planned to stay for three to five days to resupply and observe the situation, but given the many suspicious points and the complexity of the situation, I decided to return as soon as the ship was repaired."

"In addition, regarding this matter—"

Derrick paused, a complex look appearing on his face.

"My ship's steam power system was severely damaged in the storm, and I thought there was no hope of repair in the short term, but... the repair personnel sent by Baron Titch from the Gustav United Kingdom completed the repairs in just half a day!"

Hamilton's expression finally changed slightly.

Although he doesn't know much about technical repair work, common sense tells him that a breakdown severe enough to leave a warship anchored cannot be solved in half a day!

Most of the time, their engineers would spend at least half a day just finding out where the problem was!

And this guy says the natives on the Gana Continent fixed it in just half a day?!

What kind of hellish joke is that!

Seeming to see the shock and disbelief on Hamilton's face, Derrick continued to state the fact that shocked him the most—

"... They didn't just fix our engine; they also improved our power components, increasing their operating efficiency by at least thirty percent!"

"I can swear to Saint Xisi that every word I say today is not exaggerated in the slightest; you only need to arrange for a craftsman to take a look at the Grace to know."

After finishing, Derrick stood straight and waited quietly for instructions, no longer interfering with General Hamilton's judgment and thinking.

Hamilton smoked for a long time, then suddenly put down his pipe, his gaze sharp as he stared into his eyes and spoke.

"The steam engine technology... could it have been leaked to them by that Prince Prince Prince Kelin?"

Derrick hesitated for a moment and shook his head.

"This... I'm not sure, but judging by the level of the engineers sent by the Gustav United Kingdom, even the engineers who graduated from our Royal Naval Academy would sigh in inferiority; I don't think Mr. Roxey Prince Prince Kelin is also a graduate of the Royal Naval Academy."

That is true...

Thinking about it, the ancestor of that imperial prince must have been a poor soul washed ashore; otherwise, after so many years, the Gana Continent wouldn't have been lying in the Vast Ocean without a single piece of news leaking out.

According to the opinion of the chief spellcaster of the Saint Yierburg Mage Corps, this great storm should have destroyed a barrier on the Vast Ocean, causing the Gana Continent's concealment methods to fail.

As for why there was a barrier isolating the entire continent there, and what it was covering up underneath... that can only be left to the Empire's adventurers to find out.

They are the best at doing this.

Hamilton's brows relaxed slightly, but then they knitted again.

After all, if the steam engine technology didn't flow into the Gustav Kingdom from Prince Prince Prince Kelin, it means the locals relied on their own wisdom to research a maritime weapon not inferior—or even superior—to the Empire's!

It's fortunate they have no interest in navigation.

Otherwise, who knows what kind of terrifying monster this storm would have released...

"What is the local population? What about their productivity? What clothes do they wear? What transportation do they use? Carriages? Or rickshaws?" Hamilton's thoughts raced, and he quickly asked Derrick.

Derrick was caught off guard for a moment; after all, he hadn't stayed there long, so he could only shake his head and reply cautiously.

"I stayed in the area for too short a time to know the specific situation of the Gustav Kingdom. However, given the Lizardmen's reproductive rate, if food is not scarce, their footprints have likely already spread across the entire Gana Continent... As for technical strength, I think we can refer to the Empire's many vassal states, such as the Ryan Kingdom, which is skilled in steam power technology."

The Campbell Duchy under the Ryan Kingdom is the Empire's largest shipbuilding base on the northeast coast of the Whirlpool Sea, second only to the Royal Shipyard in the Shengcheng in scale, and perhaps even leading in technology; after all, that seems to be the birthplace of the steam engine.

Hamilton continued to press.

"And Deadwood Port?"

Derrick answered quickly.

"I heard there are one or two thousand people... but I only saw about a hundred."

Hamilton frowned.

"What do you mean?"

Derrick continued.

"I heard from the locals that Titch moved his servants to a shelter in the nearby mountains, and those left on the beach building the port seem to be people who were recently washed up on the beach."

Moved to the mountains?

Hamilton's gaze flickered slightly.

"It seems they have a good relationship with the local Lizardmen?"

Derrick shrugged slightly.

"I think this is normal; if they had fallen out... given their isolated situation, I'm afraid they would have become the other side's dinner long ago."

This is the truth.

Given the Lizardmen's physical fitness, being able to easily jump onto the deck in one leap, if there were no technological gap between the two sides, I'm afraid the entire colony would have been wiped out in minutes.

That Roxey Prince Prince Kelin is an imperial prince, and his strength might not be weak, but in the end, he is only one person and cannot turn the tide of the entire war.

He is not a professional army general, but he has common sense—relying on a group of civilians washed up on the beach to resist an entire kingdom is unrealistic.

Besides, that Dragon God seemed quite powerful in the First Epoch?

It's just unclear why it suddenly disappeared.

Looking at Captain Derrick standing before the oak table, Hamilton fell into deep thought again, his index finger tapping lightly on the table.

A closed kingdom with a large population, possessing steam power technology not inferior to the Empire's, with unknown achievements in the transcendent realm, but likely not too weak...

They are, after all, the descendants of Gustav.

Even now, there is still a large number of adventurers on the Os Continent practicing the "Qi" techniques left behind by them.

Thinking of this, Hamilton's heart suddenly stirred.

If this Gustav Kingdom is truly this powerful.

Perhaps—

They might be able to solve the supply shortage problem facing Saint Yierburg!?

Thinking of this, his train of thought opened up instantly, his gaze quickly turned to the strategic map spread on the table, and his eyes gradually brightened.

Cooperating with heretics is certainly unsettling, but from a realistic perspective, it's better than getting tangled up with the white gloves kept by the Shengcheng nobles.

At least he has no conflict of interest with that Prince Prince Prince Kelin, and the latter does not have enough power to force him to compromise on bottom-line issues.

And he can use this opportunity to probe the true strength of the Gustav United Kingdom!

Hamilton quickly looked up and asked Derrick.

"How far is it from here to there?"

Derrick was slightly stunned but immediately replied.

"If fast, a week; if slow, two weeks is enough!"

Hamilton was overjoyed.

It takes four to eight weeks just to get from the imperial mainland to Saint Yierburg!

The time saved on this voyage is even enough for him to help that Deadwood Port build a transit port for supplies!

If they can solve part of the supply problem from the Gana Continent, they can allocate the saved transport capacity to the transport of critical materials.

Saint Xisi does not forbid believers from eating the food of heretics.

And—

He actually doesn't necessarily need to have too much contact with the heretics on the Gana Continent; he can completely use that Roxey Prince Prince Kelin as an intermediary, so his supplies would be purchased from an imperial colony, and even the Shengcheng wouldn't say anything!

This matter might not necessarily be negotiated, but as long as there is hope, it's worth a try!

It didn't take long for Hamilton to make a decision; he pushed the oak chair away, stood up, and said decisively.

"It seems we need to meet with the mysterious Prince!"

(End of chapter)