Chapter 709.1: The Land of Potential

The First Hospital of Dawn City.

Lying on the hospital bed, Duke Garawa stared blankly at the first ray of morning light creeping past the window frame. His pale face looked as though he had just recovered from a serious illness.

For several days, he had been suffering from sleepless nights. Every time he managed to close his eyes for a short while, he would be jolted awake by nightmares, only to find himself drenched in cold sweat.

He could not understand it. How had the trump card built for them by the Wislanders lost? Even more incomprehensible was how they had lost to a mere force of 500 men!

“... Technology?”

A faint pain throbbed in his heart as his trembling lips moved weakly. Within his clouded pupils, there seemed to be a trace of enlightenment.

Illnesses that the royal physicians could not cure were somehow treatable in the New Alliance. He vaguely remembered hearing someone mention it was because of some sort of science and technology.

And the most astonishing thing was that it was not only nobles like him who received treatment here. Their medical resources were so abundant that they could even fit those penniless-looking beggars with mechanical prosthetics.

Niyan had even told him that they had established something called the House of Refugees. Survivors who had lost limbs could receive an interest-free loan for basic mechanical prosthetics as long as they were willing to learn life skills and accept job assignments.

As Duke Garawa gradually calmed down, he suddenly felt cold sweat soaking through his back once again. Only then did he begin to realize what kind of opponent they had provoked.

However... Perhaps his failed probe was not entirely a bad thing. At the very least, he had discovered the remedy for making the Xilande Empire stronger.

Relaxing his shoulders and sinking the back of his head into the pillow, Duke Garawa comforted himself with that thought, feeling slightly better. “... We need to find a way to obtain some technology.”

Just as he was deep in thought, footsteps sounded from outside the room.

Thinking someone had overheard his inner thoughts, he nearly jumped in fright. Cold sweat once again burst from his back. Only after seeing that the person at the doorway was his trusted subordinate Niyan did his tense shoulders loosen slightly.

“My lord, you’re awake?!” Standing at the entrance with a stack of papers in hand, Niyan looked at the now-awake Duke Garawa with delight.

Garawa looked at him expressionlessly, about to beckon him inside, when he noticed the stack of papers in Niyan’s hand. His heart tightened instantly. “Take those newspapers away!”

He did not want to see that sort of thing right now. After all, there was certainly no good news to be found in them.

“T-this isn’t a newspaper, my lord. It’s a draft ceasefire agreement prepared by the New Alliance.” Seeing the duke react so emotionally, Niyan answered honestly in a low voice. “Shall I throw it away for you?”

The moment those words left his mouth, Duke Garawa practically sprang up from the bed as though electrocuted. He did not look like a patient at all. His bloodshot eyes looked as though they might burst from their sockets as he stretched out his hand with all his strength. “Give... it... to me!”

“As you command, my lord.” Niyan bowed respectfully and stepped forward with the draft agreement. Yet beneath his lowered face flashed an almost imperceptible trace of disappointment.

What a pity. The flames he had painstakingly fanned should have completely collapsed that crumbling tower of blocks, yet an invisible hand had stopped it from falling.

Had the war continued to its bitter end, draining away all the rotten blood that reeked of decay and drowning those parasites feeding upon the giant, perhaps his homeland might still have had a chance at rebirth.

Now, all he could do was lament the misfortune of fate...

...

The war was over, at least for the time being.

At the ruins before the Governor’s Manor in Port Gallon, the faint smell of blood still lingered despite several heavy rains.

A group of well-dressed people knelt on the ground with clasped hands, praying in gratitude to the guardian spirits for protecting them from death and disaster. Meanwhile, ragged scavengers wandered across the rubble with baskets in hand, stuffing anything valuable they could find inside.

The corpses and weapons lying beside them had long since been collected by the settlement’s militia, but plenty of salvageable things still remained. For example, shell casings scattered across the ground, or bullets embedded in walls.

That orange-yellow metal was valuable stuff. A pound of it could be exchanged for a pound or two of beans, and merchants near the harbor were buying any amount of it.

At that moment, someone suddenly pulled a leather ammunition belt from beneath a pile of broken bricks. Overjoyed, he raised it high over his head and waved toward the guard seated nearby.

The guard noticed him, yawned, and rose from his chair. He walked over, inspected the belt for a moment, then counted out several bills and tossed them to the scavenger.

The scavenger bowed repeatedly with a fawning grin. “Thank you, sir!”

The guard waved him off without even bothering to reply and returned to his chair with the leather belt in hand.

The others looked at the lucky man with envy and searched the ruins with even greater effort.

Rumor had it that no barges had docked at the inland harbor for quite some time. The emperor had ordered the lower river ports sealed off, and grain would no longer arrive from the west. Watching bean prices rise higher and higher each day, many had already caught the scent of famine.

They had to prepare before disaster struck...

In the distance, more scavengers attempted to enter the area, only to be blocked by a group of sturdy young men. The youths wore short shirts and carried clubs. They were lean but fierce, baring their teeth like hyenas on the grasslands.

“Get lost! This place belongs to us!”

“You cockroaches!”

“Pay up, or go somewhere else!”

The ragged scavengers were clearly no match for them. Some reluctantly handed over a few Xilande Coins, while others who could not afford it, or felt it was not worth it, cursed under their breath and left for other areas.

On the other side, the respectable citizens who had finished praying gradually rose to their feet, bidding a final farewell to the land where they had lived for so many years.

As they departed the ruins, they nodded gratefully toward the youths standing guard with clubs, thanking them for sparing the neighborhood residents any fees out of consideration for old ties.

And when they looked toward a certain young Ratfolk man, every pair of eyes was filled with reverence and gratitude.

The ones digging through garbage to survive should have been them. Had they listened to that Wolffolk thug named Vikram and demanded even more from those iron men, they would probably have nothing left now but broken bricks, and might even be fighting scavengers from other districts over scraps.

Bathed in those admiring gazes, Axin merely nodded lightly without showing excessive enthusiasm. He could roughly sense that hidden behind those grateful eyes was not simple gratitude, but awe, an awe they themselves likely did not realize, the same kind they reserved for gods.

Being a truly great man was difficult, but imitating one was not. No one understood the nature of these people better than he did. All he needed was to maintain an appropriate distance and authority, occasionally offering small favors, and they would praise his kindness and generosity.

For the current him, that was absurdly easy. It did not even cost him money. And in return, once they returned home, they would tell their children or younger siblings that they must not only be cautious like rats in the night, but should also learn from that good young man named Axin and become someone successful like him.

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