Chapter 431

"Hahaha!" The large dwarf burst out laughing: "Little fat dragon, you think it's disgusting too? Tastes like swill—even goblinheads won't drink it."

Nagris scanned him—his beard stained with liquor, broken jars on the ground—and said: "Goblinheads won't drink it, but you drank it all? What's that mean?"

"Huh? You're Thunder's bloodline? Cave Titan?" Nagris finally noticed something off about the large dwarf.

"Oh? Little yellow dragon, you've got good eyes! You recognize me? You're the first person to spot us at a glance. These stupid humans always think we're just big dwarves. Nice! When you've got time, I'll treat you to a drink." The Cave Titan thumped his chest loudly. To him, offering a drink was the highest honor.

Nagris's eyes darted, and he immediately said: "No need to wait. I'll treat you right now. Hold on."

The little yellow dragon flew back, but Bamos grew frantic: "What's this? Am I invisible?"

"Hey! Where'd this shrunken lizard come from? When did it get the right to speak?" Bamos raised his Staff of Undeath and shouted: "Spirits of Undeath! Destroy the intruders!"

For the third time, Ange sighed lightly and gave a small tug.

"Huh? Why'd it shut off? What happened?" Bamos patted the staff, shook it—no reaction. He flicked it—still nothing.

Bamos was stunned. Without his Staff of Undeath, would those skeletons and zombies still obey him?

Nagris fetched a bottle of strong liquor from Ange and flew back: "Here, try this."

The Cave Titan accepted without hesitation, popped the cork, and downed it in one gulp, as he always did.

Nagris didn't warn him—he watched with malicious delight as the Cave Titan spat it out: "So spicy! Cough cough cough…"

With the Clarification Technique, Ange could control alcohol strength at will—even 99% purity was no problem. This bottle had been purified, exactly the strength dwarves loved most.

But for first-timers, the taste was overwhelming.

After spitting it out, the Cave Titan wore a grimace, staring at the bottle in disbelief: "Is this poison?"

No sooner had he spoken than he smacked his lips, savoring the aftertaste. He cautiously took another sip, swallowed slowly, and instantly his face flushed red all the way to his neck.

Then he exhaled deeply and praised: "Good liquor!"

Nagris sneered. Of course—Titan bloodline. Just like dwarves. Even if it's poison, they'll still smack their lips.

The Cave Titan sipped slowly, sighing after each swallow, sighing after each swallow—half the bottle vanished in moments.

At that moment, he seemed to remember something. He tossed out: "Wait a sec," then turned and sprinted back into the alchemy workshop.

The Bone Dragon Knights circled overhead; Neiwen and all the knights leapt down, swords drawn and pressed against Bamos's neck.

Bamos shouted in fury: "You Bone Dragon Knights are meddling too much! My affairs in Iron Sand City have nothing to do with you!"

Neiwen spoke sternly: "Maintaining order is our mission. You assassinated the city's lord without cause, shattered local governance—this is rebellion. In the name of the Bone Dragon Knights, I declare your crimes. Do not resist, or we have the right to execute you on the spot."

Bamos stuck his neck out and yelled: "Who gave you this authority? You're not appointed by the Necropolis Council! Did you get their authorization? What right do you have calling me a rebel? You're the rebel! I have the staff—I have the Necropolis Council's mandate! I'm here to take over Iron Sand City. The original lord refused to surrender power—that's rebellion!"

"Because I have the Silver Staff." Neiwen pulled out his own extinguished Silver Staff, flashed it quickly, then continued: "I've received your appeal. The Necropolis Council will issue a final verdict. For now, order your men to lay down their weapons and surrender. Otherwise, I have the right to execute you on the spot."

Bamos's subordinates exchanged glances, then one by one dropped their weapons and knelt in surrender.

Nagris, Silvercoin, and Du Luo all crowded around Ange, whispering:

"I'm a bit confused. This Bone Dragon Knights group isn't officially appointed by the Necropolis Council? Are they a civilian organization? Did we just help a militia seize a city? Is that what this means?" Du Luo asked.

Silvercoin nodded: "Looks like it. That matches the intel I gathered. Since the Undead Empire has too few high-ranking undead, it manages cities mainly through delegation—only sending undead wardens to each city."

"Beyond cities, there are countless villages and mines. The Empire delegates authority to certain factions to manage them. This Bone Dragon Knights group is probably one of those regional delegations. Their authority is higher than city-level ones because their jurisdiction is larger—but they have no subordinate relationship with the cities."

"But this young commander's too responsible—he's taken other cities under his management too. Is that even allowed? If we'd known, we could've done it ourselves. The Master's authorization seems higher than anyone else's." Silvercoin sighed.

Du Luo's eyes lit up: "Why not test it? This Commander Neiwen seems… quite righteous. Let's talk to him. Use the Bone Dragon Knights' name to operate—we do the work, he takes the blame."

Silvercoin nodded deeply: "Good. Right now, the easiest business in the House of the Departed is grain. I was worried—buying or selling grain on a large scale draws attention. But if we use the Bone Dragon Knights' name, no one will dare interfere."

"Will he agree?" Du Luo asked.

"Probably. Famine's everywhere—not because there's no grain, but because of unequal distribution. Commerce can ease some of it. We take a small handling fee—it's reasonable, right?"

"Reasonable, very reasonable. If we don't charge a fee, I'd worry you're not taking this seriously."

"Using the Bone Dragon Knights' name saves us a lot of trouble. The knights gain massive prestige. So we ask Neiwen to cooperate—we get prestige, we charge a management fee. Reasonable, right?"

"Uh… using them as a shield and charging them money? Reasonable, very reasonable." Du Luo's lip twitched.

Silvercoin saw no issue and continued: "I don't know the Bone Dragon Knights' full size, but they maintain thirteen bone dragons—definitely large. Feeding men and beasts is big business. Are they grain producers or consumers? If we monopolize their supply, it could be huge."

"... Now I know why you're the God of Scoundrel Merchants, not the God of Commerce. There's no wrong god name—only wrong names." Du Luo sighed.

Nagris listened, drifting further away—better to keep distance so he wouldn't get sold and still help count the coins.

Neiwen's men came over and bound Bamos's entire crew—including Bamos himself. Despite his loud shouting, his body was very obedient—he didn't move a muscle, because Neiwen's sword never left his neck.

At that moment, the Cave Titans inside the alchemy workshop seemed to have reached an agreement. A dozen burst out in a rush. The one in front was the one they'd already met; the others looked nearly identical.

Each was bare-chested, wielding eighty-pound iron hammers, forty-pound small hammers. A few carried anvils and tongs. The last one was the craziest—he'd dragged out the bellows.

The group surged out. The lead Cave Titan pointed at the little yellow dragon: "It's him. The liquor's his."

The other Cave Titans immediately dropped their various "weapons," and shouted in unison: "We surrender! Your liquor's delicious! We surrender to you!"

After speaking, the Cave Titans blinked, utterly bewildered—they saw Bamos and his men all bound and dragged away.

The undead wardens of Iron Sand City, now leaderless, stood confused: What am I doing here…? One by one, they drifted off. The scene was left with only Ange's group and a giant iron ball.

"This… is it over? Do… do we still need to surrender?" The Cave Titan who'd carried the bellows asked blankly.

"Surrender! Surrender! Without surrender, how do we get more of this liquor? Little Yellow Dragon Lord, we surrender! We, the Cave Titans, pledge our loyalty to you!" The lead Titan rubbed his hands eagerly: "Lord, do you have more of that liquor? Everyone only took a sip—we didn't even taste it!"

"We have some, but we don't need your loyalty. Why should we give it to you? Just taste it. Don't overthink it." Nagris spoke, then turned and beckoned to Silvercoin with his back turned.

"But… but…" The Cave Titan turned red with desperation. They didn't want their loyalty? What now?

Wait—weren't Cave Titans valuable? They mined, forged, crafted—excellent skills, fiercely loyal. Only fine liquor made them surrender.

Countless factions had dreamed of gaining a band of Cave Titans' loyalty. Why are you rejecting them?

The devastated Cave Titan couldn't even speak. Silvercoin stepped forward, rubbing his hands warmly: "This rice-mead wine is made from century-old fragrant rice, morning dew from summer, honey collected by male bees, brewed for three years, aged ten years, then finally formed. Extremely rare. Extremely expensive…"

Seeing the Cave Titans' faces turn pale, Silvercoin changed tone: "We also have a cheaper alternative—Moon Grass Ale, milder in flavor. Or Beetroot Wine, which makes dwarves go berserk. Want to try?"

Ange and the others didn't want to hear any more. With Silvercoin's blarney, these Cave Titans would probably sell their own souls just to drink good liquor.

Early the next morning, Neiwen came to say goodbye.

"What? You're leaving?" Nagris asked in shock.

"Yes. We must patrol other cities to prevent rebellions like Bamos's. His charges have been submitted to the Necropolis Council. Normally, a verdict will arrive within a month. Then, please handle it according to the ruling." Neiwen thumped his chest sincerely.

"Uh, no, no, no—I mean, what about Iron Sand City? You're not going to manage it?" Nagris exclaimed.

Neiwen scratched his head, shyly saying: "We only know how to fight, not how to manage cities. The undead wardens here maintain order. This city is yours now."

As if shedding a hot potato, Neiwen leapt up, mounted his bone dragon, and sped off.

Nagris was stunned. This wasn't about whether they could manage a city—this entire massive city was just handed to them?

Seeing them from afar, Silvercoin came over and asked: "Left? Did they pay management fees?"

"Huh? Management fees? They gave us the whole city—why charge them fees?"

"Of course! Otherwise we work for free? Even if we collect taxes ourselves, we need to know the rates and shares. Forget it—I'll go ask." Silvercoin realized discussing this with Nagris was pointless—he went straight to the dungeon and dragged out Bamos for interrogation.

Not long after Silvercoin left, Du Luo came to report to Ange: "Master, we've struck gold. This isn't just an iron mine—it's a mithril and magic crystal deposit. I found a room full of mithril ingots—over two tons."

"Whoa! Two tons?" Nagris had never thought mithril could be measured in tons before—he'd only ever heard of grams, maybe a few jin at most.

Ange nodded, listlessly fiddling with a flowerpot, watching the sapling inside. Ten tons of mithril? So what? Can't plant vegetables with it.

Du Luo knew this would happen. He cleared his throat and continued: "I also found sixty barrels of resin varnish. We can start making transparent cloth now."

Ange lifted his head—finally showing interest.

"And thirty mechanical harvesters. The Cave Titans say they can also sow, till, and plow—everything from planting to harvest. Only downside: they don't work in mountainous areas. I was thinking—should we ship them to North Wind City? Your dam's raised irrigation zone would be perfect for them." Du Luo said.

Ange's eyes lit up—he nodded rapidly.

Du Luo exhaled inwardly. Good—finally found something that caught the Master's interest. This expedition wasn't a total loss.

He was about to say more when the sapling in the flowerpot suddenly emitted a strong message: Ya—ya—ya—

A powerful surge of life energy burst from the sapling. The tiny bud on its head slowly bloomed into a vivid flower, no bigger than a fingertip—but the flower lasted less than a second before withering.

From the flower's core, a fruit rapidly swelled, matured, then fell.

Ange caught it in his hand.

The sapling emitted an eager message: Plant—ya—plant—ya—

Plant? Where? Ange was at a loss. He looked around—plant it near this barren iron mine? Where? He had no reference—he didn't know.

For the first time, Ange didn't know how to begin planting something.

Suddenly, a commotion erupted at the city gate. Ange turned—immediately sensing a powerful presence speeding toward them.

Someone had broken in. The guards naturally didn't hold back—they surged forward.

But as limbs flew apart, a Tree Shepherd crashed through the horde of skeletons, his waist twisting so violently it left afterimages—wriggling, wriggling, bursting through the encirclement.

ps: Last day—monthly tickets expire