Chapter 340: The Extraordinary Path

When Desen woke up again, he found that daybreak had already arrived, and the fellow tribe members sharing the room had already gotten up and put on the prepared clothes.

This set of clothes, made of an unknown fabric, was extremely sturdy; the light‑blue material felt rough to the touch, yet was comfortable when worn and fit tightly. Everyone was also equipped with a pair of leather boots whose soles were hard, giving a steady feeling on the ground.

The warehouse doors opened, and several Imperial servants pushed in food.

The food consisted only of grain bread and thin porridge, but the slaves had gone a whole day without eating; the scent of fresh bread and steaming porridge made them salivate helplessly, and their stomachs rumbled.

Under the protection of the extraordinary, the servants wheeled a food cart through the hallway and handed out the meals.

They also announced that breakfast was unlimited, but only this once.

The slaves shouted in unison, unable to wait any longer.

Desen devoured the food; since being captured by the Vinah and made a slave, he had never had a full meal, and it was the first time he found grain bread and thin porridge so delicious.

After breakfast, the slaves sat on their beds, each with a belly swollen and round from satisfaction.

Desen, however, restrained himself and ate only to ninety percent fullness.

From everything he had seen since last night, he realized that the slave owner who bought him and his tribe was certainly no ordinary person. Moreover, as far as he knew, the Empire prohibited slave‑holding everywhere except the Turde Trade City‑states, so here in Mo Du his fate might take a turn!

After a short rest, a mercenary extraordinary shouted loudly, "Everyone, come out."

The slaves looked at each other bewildered and, in groups of two or three, walked out of the warehouse.

Desen blended into the crowd and went out; the morning sun warmed his back, and he saw the other four tribe members from the other warehouses also being called out.

When they reached the open ground, he noticed many people staring at the sky, their eyes vacant.

Desen also lifted his head and looked up.

At once he saw a sky‑city hovering at the same level as the cloud layer; even from dozens of miles away its grandeur and magnificence could be felt.

"Fu Kong Cheng!"

"Mother Goddess, this is a miracle…!" Some slaves, shocked, fell to their knees and prayed to the Mother Earth Goddess in the direction of the sky‑city.

Desen's mind went blank.

The Empire's sky‑city is renowned worldwide; he had read about it countless times, knowing the origins and names of the seven imperial sky‑cities like the back of his hand, but only seeing it with his own eyes could truly convey its impact.

This miracle‑city, as if created only by a deity, represents the pinnacle of mortal wisdom and craftsmanship!

After the shock, the slaves were gathered onto the open ground.

Desen's gaze swept the area, and among the three‑hundred‑plus female slaves he finally spotted his sister, who looked fine, her complexion rosy, also dressed in light‑blue clothing.

Since boarding the slave ship at the Vinah port, he had finally seen his sister again.

Before the siblings could recognize each other, the mercenary extraordinary issued commands, separating the men from the women and ordering everyone to line up on the ground.

Over a thousand slaves shuffled noisily for half an hour, and at last the rows were straightened.

Under the watch of the mercenaries and centaurs, the slaves dared not speak; the vast open space fell silent.

Desen stood in the middle of the line, feeling inexplicably nervous.

The mercenaries brought a simple wooden platform and placed it before the ranks; just as the slaves were puzzled, a deep teleportation portal opened before them.

Then a tall figure stepped out of it.

The slaves, seeing his appearance, were astonished and whispered among themselves.

"It's him!"

Desen in the line widened his eyes; the man was the distinguished figure who had left a deep impression on him—still clad in light armor, a blood‑red cloak flowing behind, a handsome face bearing a faint smile, majestic and composed, as if everything were under his control.

Behind him, the portal released a squad of heavily‑armored, towering warriors.

These warriors were half a body taller than ordinary people, like a wall of metal; as they moved, the ground trembled slightly, and a strong, terrifying aura surged forward.

Desen's senses, naturally sharper than others, registered a chill after just two glances.

By instinct, he knew any one of those towering warriors could easily slay more than a thousand of his own tribe members, himself included!

When the portal closed, twelve dreadful warriors stood in a line.

Under the slaves' gaze, the young noble stepped onto the two‑meter‑high platform, standing above all, scanning each slave with his eyes, a feeling indescribable in his gaze as he carefully observed each person.

The slaves, not understanding why, dared not speak; some lowered their heads subconsciously when noticed.

Until a few minutes later.

"Introduce yourselves," he said in a calm voice that was clear to everyone and gave a friendly impression: "I am the Earl of Glamorgan, Ryan Augustus, lord of this territory. You may not know me now, that's fine; you will in time. For now you need only know one thing: I have bought you all."

Desen was shocked; he had many guesses before, but never imagined that this young man, similar to himself, was an actual feudal lord!

He knew something about the Empire's noble system.

He was well aware how rare an actual feudal lord was in the Empire, let alone that the Glamorgan domain lay in Mo Du; this lord's status was probably higher than that of Duke Kemeier!

And he was so young!

Yet the most unexpected thing for Desen and the slaves was that the lord's second half‑sentence was spoken in the Kemeier language.

Could the lord be a Kemeier?

Many slaves entertained that thought, but only a few like Desen, who understood the Empire, knew it was impossible. The lord likely only spoke Kemeier; his appearance gave no clue of any Kemeier heritage.

The lord on the platform continued, "First, I have good news for you." With everyone's attention, he solemnly announced:

"You are free."

All the Kemeier people were stunned for a few seconds, then understood the meaning. The scene erupted in uproar, nearly out of control, and the mercenaries and centaurs quickly restored order.

The surprise came so fast it was hard to comprehend.

Even Desen, who had mentally prepared himself, was moved to the point of tears when he actually heard it.

Many could not believe it and shouted, "Lord, is this true?"

"Of course, I never break my word." Over a thousand Kemeier people stared at the lord, listening as he said, "The Empire forbids slave‑holding; this is the Glamorgan domain, not Thus: Thus: Shengangcheng, so we must obey Imperial law; all slaves automatically become free citizens…"

Before he finished, the Kemeier people erupted in joy.

"Mother Goddess above, I am free!"

"Earl of Glamorgan, you truly are a good man; the Mother Goddess will bless you."

"Wooo…," some people clasped their heads and wept with their kin.

After everyone's emotions settled, the lord on the stage said, "You are not Empire citizens, you have no identity records; you must register here and become subjects of the Earl of Glamorgan's domain. After three years you may become official Empire citizens, then leave my lands and move freely within the Empire."

Upon hearing this, many people hesitated.

Someone mustered courage and asked, "Lord, may we return to Kemeier immediately?"

"Yes."

The young lord glanced at the asker, his face showing no emotion, and replied, "But I do not recommend you do so."

Desen's heart leapt, knowing the crucial part was coming.

From start to finish, he had thought the Earl of Glamorgan had ulterior motives; no one would spend tens of thousands of Gold Shields to buy so many slaves and then let them go free.

"To return from the Empire to the Kemeier Principality, the cheapest ticket costs three Gold Shields, and the vessel must pass through Thus: Thus: Shengangcheng, crossing Vina waters," the lord asked calmly, "How likely do you think you have of getting back to Kemeier?"

Everyone fell silent.

Each of them is penniless now; how could they produce three Gold Shields?

And the lord was right; whether traveling by land or sea, they must pass through Vina‑controlled territories. As ordinary folk, they might be captured midway and sold as slaves again.

Someone thought of asking the kind lord to fund and help send them back.

Yet even the most shameless would lack the nerve to make such a request, let alone obtain consent.

After a few minutes of silence, the lord smiled and said, "I suggest you stay in the Earl of Glamorgan's lands. I can offer you work on this farm, with meals and lodging provided, and a salary of eight hundred copper coins per month."

The terms were better than in the Kemeier Principality, and many were instantly swayed.

When they were in Kemeier, their monthly earnings, converted to Empire copper coins, might not even reach three hundred.

Some thought further ahead, like Desen.

His hometown, Mono Ridge, had been burned by the Vina; even if he returned, he would become a refugee, making the Empire safer.

And there is a chance to become a true Empire citizen!

The lord on the stage paused, his gaze sweeping certain people in the crowd, and said lightly, "Among those willing to work on the farm, I will select some for training, giving you a chance to become Transcendents."

The words struck like a thunderclap.

Transcendent!

What ordinary person wouldn't want to be a Transcendent?

Whether to avenge family, live better, or gain great power, only the path of a Transcendent can achieve it.

Before becoming slaves, they were commoners; only a few ever received training, having no chance at transcendence.

Now the opportunity lies before them.

Desen's mind nearly stalled, then recovered, casting all doubts aside, and was the first to raise his hand, shouting, "Lord, I am willing to stay!"

"I also am willing."

"Lord, I will not return to Kemeier; please give me a chance!" Others snapped back to their senses, scrambling toward the platform.

The orderly line they had painstakingly formed instantly fell into chaos.

"Everyone, stand properly!"

A rebuke rang in everyone's ears, its voice bearing terrifying might that pierced straight to the soul. In an instant, more than a thousand Kemeier people stood frozen, eyes full of dread, their legs going limp, lacking any strength to run, and a few even lost control of themselves.

After two minutes, the people gradually shook off the fear, trembling as they reformed the line.

Desen stepped back into the ranks, his lingering dread prompting him to look at the lord on the stage; that voice made him feel as if he had seen a legendary dragon and almost thought he would die.

"Is this the lord's power?"

He felt both fear and yearning, muttering, "Just a shout can frighten so many to the brink of death; when will I possess such power?"

Amid his sighs, Desen heard the lord say, "Alright, I will begin selecting. The first batch of three hundred will train for half a month to assess results; those who fail will be eliminated and replaced from the second batch."

He felt invigorated, lifting his head and chest, hoping to be chosen.

The two chapters, seven thousand characters, were posted together.

(End of chapter.)