Knight's Bloodline 41

page views:1 Publication date:2023-06-11 19:43:12

Author/Blood Coral

Synopsis:

Due to the development plan of the new spirit armor, Richie and Misra had a serious conflict of opinion, forcing Annelia to accept Richie's demands. In return, Richie had to play his trump card. What shocking design will Richie bring out this time?

Once Richie's secret of being able to communicate with the AI was revealed, coupled with his identity as a pure-blooded experimental subject, Parkinton and various countries secretly reached a consensus to restrict the flow of Richie's bloodline. The countries would provide female knights to Richie. Under this strategy, however, Richie unexpectedly reached a new level of understanding...

Chapter 1:

The biting north wind howled outside the window. Although the fireplace in the room was burning, it still made people feel a chill.

Misra was wearing a thick fur coat and a silver fox fur hat, with the brim pulled down to protect her ears.

She felt cold, even in the room.

This, of course, had a reason: she was simply too busy. People were constantly coming and going from her room; the door opened and closed, taking away all the warmth inside and letting in the cold wind through the gaps.

Misra cursed the winter inwardly, and also cursed the guy who had given her so much work.

Heaven seemed to hear her curses, because seven or eight old men rushed in. These old men looked quite important; they didn't wait outside with the others waiting to be received, but barged in, muttering incessantly, "This job is impossible to do, they're trying to kill us!"

Seeing these old men enter, Misra felt the veins on her forehead throb again.

She had a headache.

"What? That guy changed his mind again?" Misra could easily guess why these old men were here.

"Yes, he just sent them down this morning." One of the old men threw a dozen thick documents in front of Misra; some were text documents, but most were structural diagrams.

She'd been the director of this research center for almost three years. Even if she'd been a novice before, three years had taught her to understand the designs.

She casually flipped through them and could tell they were incredibly clever.

"Very good, definitely better than the previous ones," Misra said, forcing a smile.

The old men were embarrassed. They were experts; they couldn't lie through their teeth. These designs were indeed brilliant, undeniable.

"Your Highness, you're absolutely right. We admit these designs are truly masterpieces, but… but you can't do this! One of these designs has been revised five times, averaging once a day and a half. If it were just minor changes, we wouldn't complain, but he doesn't. He either doesn't change anything, or he changes everything…"

the old men complained loudly.

Misra had a terrible headache, but she listened patiently. The

only one capable of causing such chaos was, of course, Lich.

Since the two spirit armors proved their power on the battlefield, the large-scale production of the new spirit armor had officially begun.

Just as Richie had said, the conditions for designing new spirit armor were extremely demanding. It could be said that he was the only one qualified to do so, so since returning to Heavenly City, his daily work had been designing spirit armor—a custom-made set for each of the Alliance's knights of Heavenly Rank and above. He started with the Heavenly Rank knights of Parkinton.

Richie's skills were indeed remarkable; his designs left the old men speechless and earned the praise of the Heavenly Rank knights. However, this guy also had many flaws. His mind was incredibly active, a constant flow of ideas.

His prolific output was a burden on his subordinates, especially the masters, who were bewildered by his endless stream of brilliant ideas.

Misra had heard these complaints before; some had already complained to her a couple of days ago, while others had bypassed her and reported directly to her mother. Today, it seemed to have reached its peak. Misra

gave the old men a chance to catch their breath. She tapped the bell on the table, and soon her attendant entered.

"Do you know where Richie is?" Misra asked. In the past, she would have immediately summoned Richie, but now she didn't have that authority.

The entire Heavenly City now revolved around that guy; not only the old men and armor makers, but even Heavenly Knights and Saint-level experts had to follow his orders. If he wasn't at the research center, he was most likely at the training grounds.

To create the most suitable spirit armor, one needed not only a thorough understanding of its design, but more importantly, knowledge of the strength of those who would use it and their preferred combat techniques. Therefore, he often spent time at the training grounds, watching Heavenly Knights perform their signature moves before him. Sometimes he would even personally spar with them, experiencing firsthand the intricacies of those techniques.

Among all the armor makers, only he possessed this ability, therefore only his designs were the best. No one could deny this, not even the old men.

To the princess's surprise, the attendant whispered a reminder, "Have you forgotten? Something happened in Montstock."

Misra slapped her forehead.

She had asked that guy about it just two days ago.

The incident in Montstock, frankly, stemmed from the fact that the provisional government's term was nearing its end, with formal elections just around the corner. So, someone was stirring up trouble. Firstly, to muddy the waters, and secondly, to grab attention.

Their point of attack was that the Valedin still had a remnant force at sea. They used Montstock as an example to warn the people that this remnant force might rise again with outside aid.

Those with any sense knew that Valedin's situation was nothing like Montstock's.

Montstock had been under the protection of the Alliance, with its army. Now, Valedin had been abandoned by the Alliance, forced to retreat to the sea, and their numbers were pitifully small: only 15,000 knights, nearly 20,000 auxiliary troops, and 40,000 sailors, with no populace to rely on.

When Monstock retreated to the northern border, a million people gathered in Stein alone. Although these civilians had almost no fighting ability, they could work in factories, continuously producing weapons and equipment for the knights. Therefore, times had changed, and the remnants of Varedin's forces posed no threat whatsoever.

Unfortunately, most people were blinded by malice, and under the instigation of those with ulterior motives, Monstock fell into chaos again.

Leach learned of this news two days ago, and his mind had been preoccupied with it for the past two days.

"Has he found a solution?" Misra was very concerned about the political situation in Monstock.

The aide-de-camp was also in charge of communications between the research center and the outside world, so nothing could be kept from her. She immediately replied, "Yes, he instructed Penes to go along with these people's wishes, incite public enthusiasm, and then, using the remnants of Valedin's forces at sea, launch a fundraising campaign to rebuild the fleet, citing the fact that Monstock's navy no longer exists as a pretext. He also spread rumors that there might be an emergency tax increase as a result."

Misra was taken aback; she hadn't expected Leach to come up with such a strategy.

This tactic not only backfired, but put the opponent in a very difficult position.

For the people of Monstok at this moment, anyone who prevented them from enjoying their hard-won peace, anyone who wanted them to spend money from their empty pockets, was worse than death. Anyone who dared to suggest it would be condemned to the deepest hell.

"Did he come up with this himself?" Misra naturally wanted to know the truth. She knew that Leach had a think tank, and if it was a solution devised by the think tank, it wouldn't matter much. She was worried that Leach had come up with it himself.

No one in the world dared to underestimate Leach's intelligence, but before this, Leach had never focused his attention on politics.

"That's a question for your mother, Her Majesty the Empress." Misra's attendant only managed internal affairs of the research center. If Leach wanted to discuss this matter, he would definitely consult the think tank provided by the Empress. That was not under her jurisdiction.

Misra waved her hand; she didn't intend to interfere.

To be honest, she was just curious; she wouldn't abuse her power to try and control Richie's every move.

Turning to look at the old men, the princess felt utterly disgusted.

"He's making changes arbitrarily. Did he consult the people responsible for piloting these spirit armors beforehand?" Misra asked sternly.

The old men exchanged glances, unsure how to answer.

Unbeknownst to them, they had been isolated from the Celestial Knights, completely cut off from communication. Richie was responsible for dealing with the Celestial Knights, and he would create preliminary designs and hand them over to them for implementation.

Seeing the old men's bewildered expressions, Misra grew increasingly impatient. She glanced at the documents the old men had brought; they indicated who the designs were for.

"Call these people to my office," Misra ordered her aide.

The research center was a highly confidential place. With the orders of the two directors, outsiders could enter, but only into the outermost office area.

Misra was in the office area, right next to the main entrance, next to the warehouse area, which was further enclosed by a wire fence. That was the real research center, a place even Saint-level experts couldn't enter at will.

About half an hour later, several Celestial Knights connected to the incident were summoned.

The princess pushed a pile of design drafts forward and said, "I heard that guy has approached you several times, repeatedly revising the original design. Did he get your permission?"

The Celestial Knights had already guessed this was the reason for their arrival. After exchanging glances, one of them was clearly chosen as a representative. He stepped forward, nodding with a smile, "We know, and we got his permission." "

Don't you have anything to do? So free?" Misra asked somewhat rudely.

"How could we? We took some time out. We'll definitely be working overtime when we get back, but at least it won't interfere with our work." The Celestial Knight didn't seem to care about Misra's tone. This girl, nicknamed "Little Witch," had never been a gentle and demure little girl before.

"Don't you guys find it annoying?" Misra wasn't easily swayed by the change of topic.

"Of course we do, but he's not toying with us. His ideas are genuinely captivating, irresistible. Who wouldn't want their armor to be more perfect?" The Celestial Knight voiced the true thoughts of those around him.

He phrased it tactfully; in reality, those repeatedly asked by Rich to revise the designs felt no resentment whatsoever, but rather delight.

This time, having brand-new spirit armor custom-made for them was far more significant than any custom-made armor they'd ever received.

Previously, there had only been one spirit armor custom-made for a single person—"Thor"—and that armor's existence had cemented the Thunder Emperor family's millennia-long reputation.

This new batch of spirit armor might allow some of them to reach the same level, a reason enough to make them not find it troublesome.

Moreover, this opportunity might only come once. After all, most of them didn't have much of a relationship with Rich, and given Rich's status, he certainly wouldn't be as dedicated to armor manufacturing as Esper or Madam Shar.

Therefore, to help Richie design the most suitable spirit armor, most of them even broke with family tradition and copied their family's secret techniques for him.

It's important to understand that a combat technique cannot be grasped simply by looking at it; only in-depth study can reveal its true essence.

Of course, they did this because they knew Richie wouldn't value their techniques.

Richie's standards are now exceptionally high; he has free access to the Parkington Royal Library, can freely read the *Book of Power*, and is also the future librarian of Capege's legendary little library.

What family's techniques could be more comprehensive than the *Book of Power*? What family's scriptures could be more profound than those in that library?

Besides, even if Richie wanted to learn other combat techniques, there are seventeen divine techniques and over three hundred unique skills in the world today; even if he were incredibly powerful, he couldn't learn them all in a lifetime.

Therefore, these Heavenly Knights seemed unconcerned when Princess Misra inquired.

Misra already knew this outcome. The perfect combination of cultivation techniques and spirit armor allows one to unleash power surpassing even the Saint level. This is a path to transcendence proven by the Thunder Emperor, and who wouldn't want to become the next Thunder Emperor?

Of course, she also knew that these people before her were likely to miscalculate. Although Leach had diligently designed the armor for them, it was primarily for practice. Perhaps only Lauralis in the entire Parkinton could truly master this path. That was Leach's way of repaying Lauralis for her countless acts of help; others didn't have that kind of face.

She strongly suspected that, apart from Lauralis, Leach would only create similar spirit armor for the members of Squad 105, and even within Squad 105, not everyone was qualified.

Unfortunately, she couldn't say such things aloud, and even if she did, the others would selectively ignore them.

Seeing that there was no other way, the princess summoned several masters.

This time, she wasn't as polite as before. She said sternly, "Now I've called everyone from both sides here. That guy is, after all, a foreigner; we can't rely on him forever. So, we can only truly rely on the masters. I want to know, how much longer will it take you to master his methods? To be able to design satisfactory spirit armor independently without troubling him anymore?"

It wasn't just the old men from before who were summoned; almost everyone of the Central Research Institute's rank was present. These people exchanged glances, and after a moment, all eyes were fixed on the leading old men.

Those old men were ashen-faced, and no one dared to speak.

Everyone knew that Richie was a half-baked armor maker; asking him to design anything on his own was probably impossible. His true strength lay in his boundless imagination; when faced with a problem, he could always find a solution. These solutions sometimes seemed very simple, and sometimes they were utterly inconceivable. But one thing was undeniable: all of these solutions were extremely effective.

This was talent, something others simply couldn't learn.

Many even suspected that this might be a kind of supernatural ability inherited from the Holy Emperor and the Crimson Emperor. This view was most prevalent among the armor makers.

Another reason they dared not speak was that Parkinton implemented a strict hierarchical system, and its evaluation standards had very obvious militaristic characteristics. No one could go back on their word. At this moment, anyone who dared to say that they could reach Richie's level in a certain amount of time would most likely be promoted to a very high position and given ample opportunities to demonstrate their abilities. If they succeeded, they would naturally rise to prominence, but if they failed, the consequences would be dire, and they would have to take responsibility. Unfortunately, Richie's performance was simply too outstanding. Not to mention them, even the three great craftsmen probably wouldn't dare to say they could surpass him.

Seeing the group below speechless, Misra was both pleased and troubled. She was pleased to see these old men get their comeuppance, but troubled because Richie's actions were indeed problematic. Time is of the essence; the sooner these spirit armors can be deployed to the battlefield, the better. While Lich's attitude is good, his constant revisions are a waste of time.

"Find him and have him come here," the princess instructed her attendant.

Lich was summoned, but the person who summoned him dared not use a commanding tone, only saying that the princess had something to discuss with him. Furthermore, instead of taking Lich to the princess's office, he was invited to the meeting hall.

Lich's status was different now; he could even sit on equal footing with Annelia, similar to the situation with the uncle after the war began—they both represented a nation.

Because of this, even Misra forced a smile when she entered the meeting room.

"How did things go with the Penes matter? Were there any problems?" the princess asked, not directly addressing the issue, but first offering her words of comfort.

"It's alright, just two small fry causing trouble." Richie initially thought those people had the support of other countries, especially the Rossoto people, which is why he was being cautious. However, after Milia and Malone investigated, they discovered it was just a small, marginalized faction.

This made him sigh. These are chaotic times; everyone wants to seize the opportunity to rise above others. This tactic would be completely useless in peacetime.

"So, have you encountered any problems with the work here? I heard you've been changing the original design every few days,"

Misra got to the point.

Richie had already guessed it was about this; in fact, at least two or three parts of his actions were intentional.

Undeniably, his standards had indeed risen considerably. The cultivation manuals provided by the Heavenly Knights no longer held the same appeal, but he wasn't as indifferent as others expected.

The reason was simple.

The *Book of Power* and the treasures in the old man's library were simply too profound, obscure and difficult to understand, especially the works written by ancient people six or seven hundred years ago, even a thousand years ago. Even the grammar was different from today's, making them exceptionally difficult to read.

Although the cultivation manuals of these Celestial Knights were slightly inferior, they were meticulously detailed, providing numerous annotations. When he asked questions, they were always forthcoming and unreserved. If he wished, these Celestial Knights would demonstrate their techniques repeatedly in the training grounds.

This efficiency was unparalleled.

As a result, even in just two weeks, he felt his strength had increased by another level. According to his prediction, if he could maintain this pace, by the time he had designed spirit armor for all the Celestial Knights in the alliance except for those from the Rossotto Empire, it would be equivalent to having thoroughly read one-third of the *Book of Power*.

That was a remarkable achievement; throughout history, only five or six people had been able to understand even a tenth of the *Book of Power*, and these five or six were all top-tier figures like the Crimson Emperor and Woodshead.

"It's not a big problem; I just want to make it as perfect as possible," Richie said.

"But I have a much bigger problem here. Allied nations want this war to end as soon as possible. We've been fighting for four years, our resources are on the verge of depletion, and we've shed enough blood," Princess Misra shouted.

"I know that. I haven't been delaying anything. Besides, I haven't caused any trouble for your masters. They have plenty of work to do; my schedule for them is already full." Leach knew that those old fogies were behind this.

He also knew that constantly changing a design would leave his subordinates confused, so he broke down a large number of designs, assigning groups to specific projects. Even if some things needed to be completely changed, it was only a small part of the work that needed to be redone for each project team.

However, there was no need to explain this to Misra. He knew that the princess understood the masters' background and knew why they were complaining.

Ever since Annelia decided to completely change the status quo in Parkinton and implement a new system for the armor makers, those old guys had been unhappy. Their current attempt to smear him was actually a polite tactic.

"What do you want?" Richie intended to be blunt with Princess Misra. If this woman wanted to use him to curry favor with those old men, they could simply part ways; he could design new spirit armor in Capeci as well.

"Time is of the essence now. Can't you temporarily stop striving for perfection? Can't you just produce a batch of usable items first? You can research them however you like after the emergency." Princess Misra dared not offend Richie. She knew very well that if she angered this guy, he could simply go to Capeci or Omor, and both sides would be overjoyed. If that happened, her glory would be over. Not only would her mother be disappointed in her, but the four royal families and other high-ranking officials would also have opinions about her.

"You only want a design for emergency use?" Richie asked coldly.

"Yes, just like the Dragon Armor back then. Time is of the essence now, and everything must be based on actual combat needs." The princess said without backing down.

"You said it yourself." Richie pointed to his chest. He always wore combat suits, and combat suits inevitably had recording devices. Clearly, his recording device had been on the moment he entered the room.

Misra's face paled slightly; she knew her words meant she would offend all the Celestial Knights of the Alliance.

In secular society, hindering someone's advancement was one of the greatest enemies, but in the world of knights, improving one's strength was a form of advancement.

Moreover, the spirit armor designed this time would be used in the near future, and the performance difference between the dedicated and standard versions was enormous; many Celestial Knights might perish in battle because of these differences.

"If you really want that kind of thing, I can give it to you right away. The prototype I made for designing those two spirit armors is what you want," Richie said nonchalantly.

"That's too perfunctory, isn't it?" The princess was also angry.

"Perfunctory?" Richie sneered, "For spirit armor, movement relies on anti-gravity devices, unlike ordinary battle armor which needs to consider overall structural strength. If you want versatility, the room for development is very limited. In a sense, the previous spirit armor was already perfect."

Misra blinked, speechless. Although she was familiar with armor design, ultimately, if everything was as Richie said, her suggestion would undoubtedly seem ridiculous, even irresponsible.

Misra desperately wanted to grab an old man and ask him, but she didn't dare, and she doubted whether it would even work. After all, Richie must have had a reason for saying that; he wouldn't tell an easily exposed lie.

Seeing Misra speechless, Richie felt he had gained the upper hand for the first time.

“I’ve always believed in the saying—let the experts handle what they do best. Sometimes meddling doesn’t do any good.”

Misra glared at him and said defiantly, “You think I’m going to meddle in these things? I just wanted to mediate your relationship with those old men…”

Before she could finish, Richie raised a finger to stop her: “Those old men have nothing to do with me. Whether they hate me or like me, it doesn’t matter. I can simply stop working with them. The one who really has to do with them is you. You got the roles backward from the start.”

These words made the princess feel a tightness in her chest, but she couldn’t refute them.

Leech had no intention of letting the woman off the hook. He continued, "I said before that I didn't need those masters here; I just needed some people willing to do the work. You were the ones who shoved these old fogies into my service. Besides, this place was originally under my control. If I didn't want to see those old hags, they had to get out. And what are they doing now? Complaining to you? What right do you have to accept their accusations? And what right do you have to tell me what to do?"

Leech deliberately used telepathy to deliver these words, his roar echoing throughout the entire research center, clearly audible to everyone.

Misra's face turned pale instantly, then flushed red a moment later.

She had never been reprimanded like this before, and her heart was naturally filled with anger and resentment. But in an instant, a chill ran through her.

She suddenly realized she was wrong.

She had indeed misjudged the role. The man before her was no longer the little knight from back then, no longer the sidekick who rowed the boat for her and carried her luggage, but a legendary figure who controlled the fate of a nation. He had seemed easy to talk to before only because he didn't care about certain things. If she really angered him, her status as a mere princess was utterly incapable of suppressing him. Her position should have been that of a deputy and collaborator, but she had chosen to act as a manager and arbitrator.

Besides feeling resentful, she felt overwhelming fear.

She knew that many people had heard her words, meaning there was no way to cover it up, and someone had to be held accountable—and that person could only be her.

The research center on the outskirts of Heavenly City had long been the most sensitive place in the Alliance, so anything that happened there would immediately reach the ears of the Alliance's high-ranking officials.

A few minutes later, an adjutant rushed into the conference room.

The meeting in progress was about choosing a counter-offensive position; such an important meeting was not to be interrupted, so the elderly general presiding over the meeting glared angrily at the adjutant.

The adjutant ignored him, walked over to Carlos and whispered a few words in his ear, causing Carlos's expression to immediately turn serious. The adjutant then whispered a few words to Sword Saint Max, whose expression also changed.

"You can continue the meeting. Just let me know the results afterward," Carlos said, standing up.

The older man did the same, giving instructions to the several Capech generals beside him before leaving his seat and exiting the meeting room.

A somber atmosphere settled over the room; no one knew what had happened. The feeling was particularly unpleasant; for these two to change so drastically, it must be something major.

At this moment, everyone could easily count on their fingers what was more important than the counterattack at the central front. Besides the incidents involving several high-ranking officials, only the Rossotto Empire or the research center had encountered problems.

Carlos and the older man didn't know what had happened either; their information came from liaison officers planted in the research center.

These liaison officers' reports were all vague; they had no right to enter Princess Misra's office.

The frontline command naturally had a way to quickly contact Annelia.

In the City of Heaven, Annelia had just learned of the incident and was also waiting for a more detailed report, so when Carlos contacted her, she couldn't say anything.

A full quarter of an hour passed before Annelia finally understood what had happened. Although it was a false alarm, the fact that even Carlos and Max had been alerted meant something was definitely on their mind.

At the same time, she was somewhat disappointed in her daughter.

Activating a special communication channel, Annelia explained the whole situation to the other two. Carlos and Max immediately breathed a sigh of relief; their biggest worry at that moment was something happening to the research center.

At this point, there were only two possibilities that could allow the Alliance to turn the tide. One was that the Rossotto Empire suddenly betrayed them, attacking Parkinton, Omor, and Capech simultaneously from the rear and flanks.

This possibility was extremely small; even if Nicholas IV had completely lost his mind, his ministers and generals wouldn't do such a thing. So this was only one possibility.

The other possibility was that the Alliance had stolen the secret of the new spirit armor and produced a large number of them before they could. This was also why Omor and Capech tolerated Parkinton's arrogance, setting up the research institute in the City of Heaven without sending anyone to participate.

If even this resulted in an accident, then Parkinton would bear full responsibility.

Although it was just a false alarm, Carlos and Max didn't rush back to continue the meeting. They knew the meeting was completely ruined, and they couldn't tell their subordinates what had happened; their subordinates would undoubtedly be preoccupied, and the meeting's effectiveness was predictable.

Besides, they planned to use this opportunity to provoke Parkinton.

"Missla isn't young anymore; she can't still have the same temper as before, can she? You're not being a very good mother," the old man Carlos grumbled, taking advantage of his age.

Annelia knew Missla would definitely be held responsible for this. She couldn't protect her even if she wanted to.

Fortunately, this matter wouldn't be made public; only those people knew the whole story, at most a few Celestial Knights who had been summoned would need a warning to keep quiet.

Annelia couldn't imagine the consequences if this matter were made public. It wouldn't just offend Richie, but all the Celestial Knights of the alliance.

"Missla hasn't truly sat in my position, so she doesn't know that sitting in this position doesn't mean she can do whatever she wants or disregard everyone," Annelia sighed softly.

"Your mistake was being too hasty in handing the throne to her," Max shook his head with deep regret. He had wanted to say this before.

A person who knows from a young age that they will one day be above all others is bound to be somewhat arrogant. If they spend thirty or forty years tempering themselves, learning caution and prudence, they can become a good ruler. Carlos, for example, ascended the throne at fifty-two; by then, all his sharp edges and temper had vanished.

Annelia usually offered explanations, but this time she was truly speechless, even questioning whether she had made a mistake before.

"Forget it, we'll talk about that later. The most important thing right now is to appease Richie. That guy rarely gets angry, but you all know that when he does, the consequences are severe," Carlos said, his first thought being this.

Annelia frowned slightly. Carlos's pressure was expected, but fortunately, she already had a plan.

"I will handle it. It's time for Misra to learn her lesson; she's grown up now… Richie will be satisfied,"

Her Majesty the Queen said calmly.

Old man Carlos and the uncle exchanged a glance, both wearing wry smiles. They understood something from Annelia's words.

They all knew Leach's temper. He rarely got angry, but once he did, it wasn't easy to calm him down. However, he had a fatal weakness: he was helpless with women.

They also knew that Misra was still a virgin. Her virginity could definitely secure Leach's forgiveness.

The matter should have ended there, but having finally gathered, the three naturally had other things to discuss.

"Didn't Leach recently propose that he wanted to command the counter-offensive in the center? What do you two think?"

the older man asked.

He spoke first, clearly indicating that, as Lauralis had predicted, Cappech had no objection to the proposal.

However, besides the reason Lauralis had analyzed, the more crucial point was that Cappech's military leadership had discovered during the four years of war that their military concepts were already lagging behind other countries, not only behind the Alliance, but even inferior to Montstock, which at least had an independent army to its name.

After careful analysis, they discovered the root cause was that Capeci was a city with little hinterland, so its military academy taught and researched only positional warfare tactics.

When the Franza forces forcefully breached Capeci's first line of defense, they were immediately plunged into annihilation. None of the many generals could devise a solution, while the previously overlooked Independent Army and Highgate Legion unexpectedly proved invaluable.

The Capeci generals wouldn't publicly admit this, but privately they all acknowledged the superior operational concepts of these two visiting forces.

For four years, the people of Capeci had been studying and researching these tactics, and with Lich's simulation system, commanders could easily verify their findings. The problem was that while the people of Capeci were growing, the Independent Army and the Alliance were also growing. After the renewed fighting at Montstock, the rapid offensives from both sides left commanders of various nations speechless, including those of Capech. They conducted countless simulations and ultimately found that none of them could match the speed and agility of the attacks.

The Capech people were naturally adept at learning, using the experiences of others to improve their own abilities. They naturally wouldn't object to Leach's suggestion; in fact, they looked forward to seeing something new.

Omor faced a similar problem; their military concepts were equally outdated. For four years, they had been fighting positional warfare, a very difficult and arduous task. Had it not been for the heavy losses suffered by the Franzas at Capech, pushing back their front line by over 400 kilometers and creating a huge gap on their left flank that prevented them from advancing recklessly, the situation in Omor would likely be far worse.

However, Carlos was unwilling to easily agree to this.

Omor was a large nation, a millennia-old nation, with a large population, many knights, and numerous generals. Allowing a foreigner to command the army would undoubtedly be met with unanimous opposition from the military high command.

"I'm afraid I'm in big trouble," Carlos sighed heavily. "My generals can accept a Parkinton as commander-in-chief, and perhaps even a Capecchi, but Montstock is too small and too weak."

As he spoke, the old man looked at Annelia.

He knew Annelia shared the same concern. The commander-in-chief of the central counter-offensive was originally slated to be a Parkinton, but this commander would only coordinate the overall operation; the armies of Parkinton, Omor, and Capecchi would attack in three columns.

However, according to Leach's demands, he clearly wanted true command, with the armies of allied nations fighting under his orders. From legions to corps, and ultimately to every knight, everyone would have to obey his commands.

This was practically impossible.

To Carlos's surprise, Annelia didn't respond to his question but smiled slightly and said, "Since he has this plan, he must be confident in persuading everyone. He must have a trump card up his sleeve. Instead of us discussing it here, we should let him reveal it."

The old man Carlos suddenly understood.

Annelia's words were indeed very much in line with Leach's habits. He even began to speculate what Leach would bring out.

"That's good. Let him calm down here and let what happened today cool down a bit." The uncle was unusually perceptive this time; he saw another intention behind Annelia's words.

Any mother would think of her daughter's best interests. Annelia clearly wanted to keep this incident to a minimum and hoped to make the punishment as lenient as possible. Therefore, bringing it up after Leach calmed down was the best option.

He even guessed that Annelia would conduct a major purge of the research center when Leach left, to prevent similar incidents from happening again.

Chapter Two: Command System

The vast red earth, rolling hills, sparse trees but many low shrubs—all of this was both somewhat unfamiliar and familiar to Leach.

He had often passed through here in recent years, but each time he came and went in a hurry.

The rows of tents in the distance told him that this was the location of the central command post.

At this moment, 1.4 million knights have gathered across a radius of over 200 kilometers. If ordinary soldiers are included, the total number exceeds 4 million. Two hundred kilometers to the south, the Alliance has also amassed a similar number of troops. Soon, these two forces will clash fiercely like two behemoths, the outcome of which will determine the final victory in this war.

His waiting vehicles were already waiting by the runway, but Richie didn't rush over. He was still waiting for his "luggage" to arrive.

His "luggage" was extensive, requiring a full twenty-six modified Pelican 3s to barely transport it. The Pelican 3, this latest large transport wing, was extremely slow, and he was worried about losing any of his belongings; the loss of even one item would cause significant trouble. Therefore, he could only wait patiently.

While Richie waited, hundreds of high-ranking officers in the command center were also patiently waiting for him, led by Emperor Carlos and Sword Saint Max.

Preparations had been made for Richie's arrival. At first, they were somewhat skeptical about whether it was a large-scale mobilization, but when they learned that twenty-six "Pelican 3" aircraft would be arriving together, carrying only one thing—something designed for the upcoming war—

everyone's curiosity was piqued.

Time passed slowly, and after more than an hour, a large convoy slowly approached. This convoy consisted mostly of heavy transport vehicles, totaling twenty.

These heavy transport vehicles did not enter the command center but instead went into a separate camp nearby.

This camp, like the research center outside Sky City, was surrounded by a high barbed wire fence, with sentries every ten steps and guards every five, heavily guarded. Inside the fence was a large open area; even if someone sneaked in, they wouldn't be able to pass through undetected. The only difference was that there were no buildings in the center of this camp, only a large pit more than ten meters deep, filled with cement.

This pit was dug overnight at Leach's request before his arrival. Because of the rush, waiting for the cement to dry naturally was impossible, so they used a baking method; the smell of coal smoke still lingers.

All the heavy vehicles stopped, and a team of knights disembarked and began unloading large crates, each labeled with a number.

This team of knights was also brought by Leach from Monstock; they were all core members of the original Independent Regiment and Leach's most trusted men.

Besides them, only Carlos, Max, and a dozen other generals were allowed to enter the barbed wire fence at this moment. These were all high-ranking officials from the three kingdoms of Parkinton, Omor, and Capege.

Faced with such tight security, the generals barred outside the fence had nothing to say.

Everything that Leach had researched was related to the course of the war. From the Dragon Armor to the new Spirit Armor, even small things like propeller propulsion technology had an immeasurable impact on the war's progress. Therefore, maintaining strict secrecy was perfectly normal.

However, those who couldn't get in felt a little resentful. This was class; those who could enter and those who couldn't were, invisibly, separated into two classes.

One box after another was transported into the huge pit via slings. Soon, the first batch of boxes was opened, revealing neatly folded thin films inside. These films were translucent, impermeable to air and water, and for added strength, a layer of silk mesh was attached in the middle.

The membrane was carefully unfolded, its shape resembling a giant bag, completely covering the pit.

The female knights moved with incredible speed, isolating the pit from the outside world in moments.

This wasn't a single layer, but six layers. With these six layers of membrane sealing it, no dust or moisture could penetrate.

After the entire pit was covered, more boxes were unloaded.

These boxes were opened inside the sealed pit, revealing cubes, each composed of an incredibly complex array of prisms and mechanical structures. Each cube had numerous interfaces that allowed them to connect to each other.

This was an extremely time-consuming task.

Of course, Leach couldn't let a large group of top Allied generals waste their time here pointlessly; for now, he only showed Carlos and the uncle a brief look at what he had brought.

The sheer complexity alone was enough to be astonishing. Although everyone knows "you can't judge a book by its cover

," judging people by their appearance is human nature, and even these important figures are not immune to this thought. Therefore, the more incomprehensible something is to them, the more unfathomable it seems. Back in the command center, the once empty space is now unusually crowded and busy. 　　A dozen or so people are assembling equipment, but this time it's much easier to understand. Most of what they're assembling is communication equipment; the only odd thing is the large number of projection screens. 　　"Now we can reveal the mystery, right?" Carlos didn't know what Leach was up to. 　　"This is a brand new combat command system." Leach led the important figures to a large screen in the center. 　　He had specifically instructed them to assemble this first, because he would use it to demonstrate something. 　　The large screen was controlled by a platform densely covered with buttons and knobs. 　　Leach casually pressed a couple of buttons, and a map appeared on the projection screen—a map of the area around Monstock—showing a record of an exercise. 　　"As you all know, the Independent Army and I rose to prominence through mobile warfare. We started experimenting with this tactic during the second phase of the Battle of Monstok," Leach said, relying on his seniority. Of course, he wouldn't admit that they had no choice but to do so back then; their strength was far inferior to the Valedinians, and they were relentlessly pursued, with nowhere to run and nowhere to hide, never finding a moment's peace. To put it bluntly, those days were essentially a 　　period of escape. However, in this world, victory is always the measure of success, and he had succeeded. Those days could be considered the beginning of mobile warfare. 　　"The biggest problem with mobile warfare is information gathering. Initially, we frequently encountered situations where different units didn't know their own locations and lost contact with each other. Later, at Capet, we developed a tactic centered on reconnaissance knights, spreading out the units like a net, maintaining a certain distance from each other… 　　"...When we joined forces with the knights of Dredava on the Western Front, we discovered new problems. The Dredava preferred rapid attacks, engaging the enemy in very short periods, making the original tactic unsuitable. So we made improvements… 　　"...A year ago, we returned to Monstok and fought the Valedin again, only to find that they had also made rapid progress in mobile warfare, employing rapid raids, ambushes on the move, and encirclement tactics to catch reinforcements. The Valedin had clearly developed a complete set of mature tactics… 　　"...The effectiveness of rapid mobile warfare is directly linked to the commander's ability. This is obviously undesirable, because without actual combat, no one knows if a commander is truly capable. After the battle, those incompetent commanders will have already caused irreparable losses…" 　　"...This situation must be avoided. I can't make a commander a great general, but I can prevent them from doing stupid things. That's why I built this machine..." 　　Leach sat down in front of the control panel. 　　As his fingers rapidly tapped, images appeared on the screen. 　　These were action records of each squad during the exercise, filmed by the squad's commanding officer. 　　In each squad, the commanding officer was always best protected because they were responsible for equipment maintenance and communication. Therefore, during battle, the commanding officer always stayed at the back of the formation, and during marches, they were wrapped in the middle of the formation. 　　Leach explained as he played the recorded images. 　　Actually, he didn't need to explain. He designed this system to allow commanders to see the situation in every corner of the battlefield, and also to allow them to clearly understand the situation of their subordinates. 　　This wasn't his own idea, but rather a borrowing from the command system of the late Primitive Era. However, it was too difficult to implement the Primitive Era system with current technology, so he simplified it as much as possible, using the same technology he used to create the combat simulation system to finally produce this system. 　　Fortunately, the final result did meet his requirements. 　　The generals observing were all top elites from their respective countries, possessing both intelligence and experience, and naturally recognized the value of the system at a glance. 　　It wasn't just Leach and the Independent Army who wanted to completely integrate intelligence gathering, processing, and operational command, considering the battlefield as a whole. Many high-ranking officers and staff officers from various countries weren't idle; they were also conducting similar research and had already achieved some results. 　　Originally, these people were holding their breath, wanting to seize this final opportunity to showcase their abilities to the world, but seeing what Leach had created, they were all dumbfounded. 　　No matter how capable they were, how thoroughly they had researched rapid maneuver warfare, or even if they were confident they could surpass the levels previously displayed by Gali of Montstock and Anderson of Varedin, they were nothing compared to this system. 　　To put it another way, they could be considered honorary knights, each with formidable strength, while this system was the armor; unless the person piloting the armor was extremely weak, they could most likely cripple them. 　　"This system relies on close communication to function. If the alliance forcibly cuts off communications, wouldn't we become deaf and blind?" a general questioned, knowing that his question was somewhat shameless. 　　On the battlefield, there are only a few ways to completely cut off the enemy's communications, and all of those methods ignore friend and foe, completely severing one's own communications as well. Therefore, no one would do such a thing unless absolutely necessary.

"You can try any existing methods that can cut off communications. Try them one by one; I guarantee the system won't be affected." Leach was genuinely confident. He had considered this weakness during the initial design, so he made several contingency plans when designing the communication system, not only connecting communication base stations into a network but also borrowing some ancient technologies.

Seeing Leach's confidence, the generals dared not continue to make trouble in this regard. If it were fake, it would be exposed as soon as it was tested; they believed Leach wasn't that foolish.

"That thing we just saw must be the core of this system, right? What if it's damaged? Wouldn't the whole system be finished?" another general asked.

"There are two backup systems that haven't arrived yet. When in use, all three systems operate simultaneously. If one is destroyed, the other two will immediately replace it; you won't feel any delay," Leach answered confidently.

The general was embarrassed to continue asking what would happen if the other two backup systems were also destroyed.

With two backup systems and heavy guard, if they could still be destroyed, they wouldn't have any complaints even if they lost the war.

In fact, his question was absurd, almost as impossible as the enemy raiding the main command and wiping out all the high-ranking commanders.

Since the start of the war, only Boslowa had successfully raided the Valedin frontline command, but that was for a reason. That raid occurred after Monstok surrendered, tantamount to a sneak attack, completely violating chivalry.

Moreover, the Valedin frontline command had advanced to 300 kilometers south of Penes, a completely unfamiliar territory to the Valedin, yet Boslowa knew it intimately, allowing him to bypass the outer defenses and penetrate the core area of the command.

This massive structure clearly wouldn't be moved easily, and such an accident wouldn't happen.

"I find it hard to imagine how you made something so complex in such a short time?"

Carlos looked at Litch with unusual curiosity.

Not only him, but everyone who had been qualified to approach the crater and see the system components had similar questions.

If this was the power of a pureblood knight, it was truly terrifying.

Although the First Holy Emperor and the Crimson Emperor possessed extraordinary intelligence, their wisdom remained within the realm of humanity. The abilities that Richie was displaying at this moment clearly did not belong to a human.

"This..." Richie didn't know how to explain, and after thinking for a while, he said helplessly, "It's actually related to my ability. I can merge with the AIs that were taken from the divine armor, making them a part of my body, and using them to remember, analyze, and calculate." He shrugged, then pretended to be indifferent: "Don't be fooled by how complicated that system is; it's actually made up of many identical components. It just takes a little thought to design the components. Once you understand the intricacies, others can do something similar to me." "

Impossible." Old Man Carlos shook his pale head: "I believe that neither Espoor, Mrs. Shar, nor Boronov could do it."

Obviously, the others thought the same as Carlos, and at this moment, they all looked at Richie with extremely strange eyes.

"It's good that a creature like you is on our side." Someone muttered softly.

This sentence obviously resonated with everyone present.

Seeing these people's expressions, Richie breathed a slight sigh of relief. He didn't care about being regarded as a monster by others; at least it was much better than exposing Susan's secret of existence.

Silence fell over the command center. If they hadn't cared much before, assuming that a united opposition would force Carlos and Max to consider their opinions, they were now utterly helpless against Leach's incredibly powerful command system.

With this system, even if they were all removed and replaced with a new batch of personnel, they could still win the war.

They also realized one thing: with this system, there was no need for a commander-in-chief; a competent staff was sufficient.

The position of commander-in-chief was originally a mere formality, and it remained so. In a sense, appointing Leach to this position wasn't entirely unreasonable. The problem was that they were all extremely unwilling.

"Your Majesty, why don't you assume the role of commander-in-chief…" an old general behind Carlos whispered.

Someone had suggested this before, but Carlos had ultimately refused. Although the commander-in-chief was merely a figurehead, he was still responsible for coordination.

Carlos wasn't ignorant of military affairs, but he had never commanded a battle; in this respect, he was even inferior to Max and Nicholas IV. Max was the commander-in-chief of the Capet forces during the Battle of Capet, and Nicholas IV also commanded the defense of Vient. It was precisely because of this concern that Carlos initially rejected the proposal.

But now the situation has completely changed.

With this system, anyone who isn't an idiot can serve as commander-in-chief.

"What about me?" Richie asked from the side, clearly dissatisfied with the proposal.

"I think the position of Chief of the General Staff is more suitable for you," the old general said, determined to shift the blame.

Compared to the position of commander-in-chief, the position of chief of the general staff is less intimidating.

The chief of the general staff is equally powerful and holds a position in the military system no less important than the commander-in-chief. However, most staff officers are ordinary people. Even those who are knights are usually those with limited strength who know they have little future in cultivation, and in a world of knights where strength is paramount, such people have little status.

"Yes, that's much better," the senior officers around him all said in unison. They all understood the old general's intentions and naturally joined in.

Leach wasn't particularly concerned with rank; he wanted to prove his abilities. At the same time, he wanted to steer the war in the direction he desired, rather than following the old path of antiquity.

He also knew what the crux of the matter was that made it difficult for the generals of various countries to accept.

"I can consider it, but I want command authority," Leach insisted firmly.

Each country has a different military system, so in joint operations, the authority of each position is first determined. Generally, the General Staff is responsible for formulating operational plans, and the Command Headquarters is responsible for specific operational command. However, if agreed upon beforehand, it's not impossible for the General Staff to take unified command.

A murmur of whispers immediately filled the command center.

"Perhaps it's a bit early to discuss this now. Even with the best command system, without testing, training, and integration, the possibility of accidents is very high. So what we need to do now is assemble this system and then test it." Old Carlos was more level-headed. He didn't care about the empty title. Personally, he would prefer Leach to be the commander-in-chief, so that Leach would owe Omor a huge favor. Given Leach's current position, owing favors was already difficult, and repaying this favor was even more difficult. Reminded

by the old man, everyone realized that it wasn't time for them to relax their vigilance. The most important thing right now was to win this battle and completely eliminate any possibility of the Franzas recovering.

In the following week, there was frequent mobilization of troops on the central front, and all commanders at all levels were drawn up to receive emergency training.

To train all these people in the shortest possible time, Leach transferred nearly half of the original Independent Regiment.

Besides training, the existing communication system also needed modification.

Fortunately, Leach had considered this in the original design, so only minor alterations were required; some additions were simply needed.

Meanwhile, two backup systems were transported from Monstock. Unlike the previous system, these two were secretly sent to two different locations. One was originally a warehouse, and an unimportant one at that, mostly in a semi-abandoned state, so it wasn't listed in the supply department's inventory.

The other was on an island in the middle of the river, where a small squad was stationed to block the river. Because it was isolated in the middle of the river, it was impossible for outsiders to sneak ashore. The terrain was advantageous, and the squad stationed there was the kind of unit that no one wanted to serve.

Both locations were heavily guarded, and very few people knew about them. Both were completely isolated; getting in and out was difficult, and even communication was challenging, with the only communication channel monitored 24/7.

This is why the two backup systems were exceptionally secure.

The Alliance's series of actions naturally fell into the hands of its spies. Moreover, large-scale modifications and training couldn't be completely kept secret, so the Alliance's intelligence agencies quickly learned that the Alliance was about to use a completely new combat command system, designed by Leach.

At this moment, Leach's name easily triggered the sensitive nerves of the Alliance's high command. So, as soon as the news reached them, the Alliance's high command panicked.

A simple propeller propulsion technology had turned the tide of the war; now Leach had created something new, related to combat command—who knew what the outcome would be?

Upon receiving this news, many felt their legs go weak.

Therefore, the Alliance's attention to the upcoming exercise even surpassed that of the Alliance itself.

In the valley outside Sobe, King George V listened anxiously to the intelligence report.

The Alliance's intelligence department had spared no expense in verifying this information, and they had indeed obtained a considerable amount of intelligence, but they had been unable to access the truly crucial details.

"Is it really that difficult to get close to that pit?" King George V gripped the armrest of his chair tightly, venting his frustration.

The intelligence officials had long since become oblivious to this. His Majesty had often acted this way over the past year, and the best response was to stand there silently, saying and doing nothing.

King George V knew he was being somewhat too harsh. The pit was located in the very center of the Alliance's camp, making it extremely difficult to approach. The security level around the pit was higher than elsewhere, and it was completely sealed off. Even food could only be delivered through the first gate, and then carried in by people inside. Anything coming out, even garbage and excrement, had to be inspected.

"Could we sneak in from the air? Or just blow that thing up?" King George V said fiercely.

"I'm afraid it will be difficult. Even if we can break through the Alliance's air defenses and take down the squadron responsible for defense, we can't open the cover on top of the pit. That cover is said to be a foot-thick cast steel plate, wrapped with a half-foot-thick layer of reinforced concrete," an intelligence officer said cautiously. In fact, they even speculated that the cover might have an energy shield.

Of course, it's not impossible to destroy that thing. As long as all the Saint-level experts are sent over, they can definitely dismantle it.

But using Saint-level experts is not that simple. It's fine for defense, but if it's used for offense, there is a very complicated procedure.

It's impossible to use such ultimate force casually. If the Empire dares to do so, the Alliance's Saint-level experts will also launch a surprise attack on Sobe.

"Can anyone tell me if there's any better way now?" King George V roared, scanning his surroundings.

Everyone whose gaze fell on him quickly lowered their heads, no one daring to meet the eyes of this increasingly frenzied emperor.

"Useless, a bunch of useless trash," George V muttered under his breath, slumping back into his chair.

Suddenly, something occurred to him. At this moment, everyone in the entire alliance was useless in his eyes, but even useless trash had value.

At least they could serve as cannon fodder.

"How are the preparations for the celebration going?" the emperor asked, his face grim, turning to the person beside him.

The person being asked was a middle-aged bald man, Heinz, the Chief of Staff of the Franza Empire. After a moment's hesitation, he said, "Everything is ready. Now we await Your Majesty's order."

As he spoke, Heinz waved his hand, signaling those around him to step aside. As the third most powerful figure in the Franza Empire, he certainly had that authority.

After everyone had left, Heinz gently placed a recording device on the table, containing all the details of the "celebration plan."

Only then did George V realize he had been somewhat reckless. Although the room was filled with trustworthy people, most of them were unaware of crucial secrets like the "Party Plan."

However, he wouldn't admit his mistake. He might have two years ago, but not now; it concerned his prestige.

George V didn't touch the recording device. He was no longer interested in anything; the more he knew, the more agitated he became. He only wanted to hear news of success; the process was irrelevant.

"Do you think the Alliance will take this opportunity to attack us?" This was George V's only concern.

"Probably not. They're not ready. Now that they have that system, they're even more confident in defeating us head-on. So, they definitely won't take any action until that system is fully tested," the bald man said confidently.

"Once the plan is implemented, our last trump card will be completely exposed, and the Alliance will probably be very happy,"

George said reluctantly.

"If we don't use this trump card now, we'll never have the chance to use it again," Heinz could only advise. In his view, the more important reason was that their trump card no longer posed a threat to the alliance, so whether they used it or not made no difference. If they had played their trump card four years ago when the Empire attacked Capet, concentrating all their forces to kill Sword Saint Max in one fell swoop, everything would have been different.

Unfortunately, there's no going back, and besides, the situation was very favorable to the alliance at that time. Even without using that trump card, it seemed they could still defeat the alliance. Back then, no one expected things to come to this.

"Do you think we still have a chance of winning?" King George V suddenly became normal, but his normal self appeared unusually dejected.

Heinz wanted to comfort His Majesty the Emperor, but he was never good at lying. After a long silence, he shook his head: "Even if the plan succeeds, it will only give us a little breathing room, and other than that, it will ensure that no one can benefit from it."

"No one can benefit from it?" King George V said with a bitter smile: "That's enough. We agreed to advance and retreat together, and now that we're finished, they won't be able to surrender either."

All the units along the central line were busy with the command system, and Leach was busy too. However, once everything was on track, he immediately had some free time. Of course, he wouldn't waste time, because for him, time was never enough. He had too much work to do; for example, the design of the new spirit armor was inseparable from him.

Although he had fallen out with Misra, Leach hadn't forgotten about it. Fortunately, his job was to complete the preliminary design. What he needed to do was to understand the characteristics of each Celestial Knight and then produce a draft design. This required a rich imagination and extraordinary eyesight, but didn't require any sophisticated equipment, so he could do this work anywhere. Originally,

it was planned that the Celestial Knights of Parkinton would be the first to have the new spirit armor, but now the situation had changed, and he couldn't afford to waste time. So, as soon as he had some free time, old man Carlos immediately sent over a batch of Celestial Knights from Omor.

This old man was a remarkable person; the Celestial Knights he sent had one thing in common—they were all women, and they all looked to be in their thirties.

Meanwhile, to avoid interference and for secrecy, the old man arranged for Lich and the female Celestial Knights to live in a secluded town.

The town's original inhabitants had all moved away; now it was filled with women, all knights, the weakest being at the peak of the Honor Realm, with many at the Glorious Realm as well.

Old Man Carlos had clearly intended this arrangement. The Honor Realm female knights he selected were all those who had been stuck at their bottlenecks for some time; his intention couldn't be clearer.

Lich hadn't expected the old man to invite him here to do hard labor, but he thoroughly enjoyed it. As a result, groans, screams, and the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh could be heard frequently throughout the town.

Life was undeniably blissful. In Lich's opinion, the only drawback was that it was winter, and the weather was a bit cold; if it were summer, he would certainly have all the women naked.

There was a small lake near the town, surrounded by groves of trees, a rather elegant scene. Lich lived in a villa by the lake.

A wooden platform extends from the villa into the lake, with several small boats moored along its edge. In summer, boating on the lake would be incredibly charming, but unfortunately, it's winter now.

However, it's a perfect spot for sunbathing.

A row of deck chairs sits there, each crammed with at least three people: one woman, and two of Richie's clones.

Everyone is dressed in thick clothing, but their crotches are open, creating a scene of unimaginable lewdness. Every now and then, Richie's clones would switch their women.

The reason for this was, of course, to allow his true body to reap the rewards.

Using clones for cultivation is purely a sacrifice, but fortunately, he's sacrificing exotic energy, not his own battle qi, so there's virtually no consumption.

This exotic energy is the best tonic for the female knights. Exotic energy can fuse with any type of battle qi and possesses a regenerative quality, a characteristic derived from Richie's "Divine King Technique."

It was precisely because of these benefits that, in the past few days, sixteen female knights at the peak of honor had successfully advanced to the quasi-brilliant realm, and nine female knights at the brilliant realm had smoothly entered the ranks of the Heavenly Realm.

Such obvious results finally made these women, who were initially unwilling, stop resisting. Coupled with prolonged sexual intercourse and the wonderful sensations of being repeatedly brought to orgasm, they unknowingly became addicted to Richie's penis. Now, they even felt an unusual emptiness, as if something was missing, without something inserted between their legs.

They had long heard of Richie's reputation in this area, but hadn't quite believed it before; now they finally experienced the man's prowess firsthand. And this was without the legendary aphrodisiac; otherwise, they would certainly be even more wretched.

The irresistible pleasure mixed with the unbearable humiliation filled the female knights' hearts with struggle.

Richie understood this perfectly; what he found most interesting at this moment was manipulating people's hearts. The simple enjoyment of sex could no longer satisfy him; he needed something deeper.

Take these women before him, for example. Most of them were once the pride of heaven, several of them like Trisly in their youth, pampered and adored. After ascending to the Heavenly Realm, they became even more arrogant, accustomed to being looked up to.

At home, they were queens, for they possessed strong bloodlines, meaning their husbands were from smaller, weaker families. In such families, men naturally had little status.

But here, they were Richie's playthings, their bodies wantonly violated, their wills gradually eroded by him.

Sometimes, Richie could even conjure up their past memories during their ecstatic moments of climax, prying into their privacy.

This filled the female knights with intense shame and indignation, but also with a sense of unease and helplessness, as if they had been caught red-handed. It was this feeling that drove them further into depravity.

Richie often did this; he knew it was immoral, but for some reason, he just enjoyed it.

Sometimes he wondered if he was a pervert?

Another piece of evidence was that he had become increasingly numb to sexual pleasure. He enjoyed seeing women moan softly beneath him, their bodies flushing slightly, trembling and convulsing. He especially enjoyed seeing semen mixed with their love juices clinging between their legs, turning into silvery threads that dripped to the ground. He also enjoyed seeing their alluring genitals swollen and red from prolonged use, their snow-white buttocks covered with deep and shallow handprints.

With a scream, Richie felt an exceptionally pure surge of battle qi enter his body.

His body could no longer contain any more battle qi; after all, the number of high-ranking female knights he was cultivating with far surpassed what he had experienced with Sophia and the others in the temple. If he hadn't changed so much, such a quantity of battle qi would probably have already burst him apart.

He guided this newly injected battle qi to his chest and abdomen, where it was enveloped and then tightly compressed into a ball.

There were already more than thirty such highly compressed balls of battle qi within his body. Each one was extremely dangerous. If even the slightest external force were to intrude, piercing one of the energy clusters and causing it to explode, triggering a chain reaction with the others, he would likely be blown to pieces in an instant.

Although the danger was greater, the effect of this combined cultivation was a hundred or a thousand times greater than before.

A moment later, feeling he could no longer extract any more energy, he placed the female knight in his hands on the recliner and then casually embraced another female knight beside him.

That female knight had been making love with his two clones; her body was slightly flushed and trembling, clearly having been on the verge of orgasm for a long time.

The real body and clones instantly switched places, and Lich's penis slid into the female knight's vagina.

It was tight and hot inside, and writhed like a towel being wrung out.

The Omor people are conservative yet romantic. Their conservatism makes them exceptionally reserved before marriage; they must remain virgins before marriage, unlike the Parkinton and Rossotto people.

But it is precisely because of this repression that Omor women often become promiscuous after marriage. Almost every woman has a lover outside the marriage, and when the women get together, they often talk about this, exchanging information about their "romantic encounters." In addition, various sexual techniques are also a topic they frequently discuss. Therefore, Omor women are all very skilled in sexual techniques.

However, Richie was already numb to it. He ruthlessly forced open the female knight's cervix and unleashed his full sexual prowess.

The female knight, already on the verge of orgasm, collapsed instantly like a dam bursting. Her body stiffened abruptly, every muscle tensing, her slender waist arching backward, her buttocks trembling violently.

Inside her, surging battle qi was flowing along Richie's penis towards him.

Just like before, he desperately extracted battle qi, guiding it to his chest and abdomen, then compressing it into a dense ball of battle qi.

Withdrawing from the last woman's body, Richie sat cross-legged on the ground.

The ball of battle qi, like a string of pearls, was propelled and circulated within him. With each cycle, the volume of the ball of battle qi would shrink slightly.

Richie dared not go too fast; he had to gradually integrate the extracted battle qi into his own.

The feeling of swelling to its limit made Richie fear that he might explode at any moment.

Fortunately, that did not happen. As the aura gradually diminished, the danger decreased, while his aura grew stronger.

When his aura first materialized, it was like an electric current; after reaching its peak, the current transformed into a spark. After this period of frenzied cultivation, his aura was now like a thumb-thick arc of electricity, its color a deep purple, enveloped in a faint purple aura.

Now, the arc seemed thicker, its color even more purple.

Lich was always very confident about one thing: among all the knights throughout history, no one could compare to him in terms of the sheer power of his aura.

Having condensed all his aura, Lich turned his cultivation technique.

Almost instantly, countless illusions appeared in his mind: countless versions of himself embracing countless women, engaging in sexual intercourse in various positions, each couple reaching climax.

This wasn't just an illusion; intense pleasure surged towards him like waves, seemingly threatening to engulf him completely, this pleasure multiplied many times over.

This was a special use of a realistic illusion.

Any sensation, even the most intense pleasure, can become unbearable pain if it becomes too strong, easily overwhelming consciousness and sometimes even driving one to madness.

He dared to do this because of a mark right in the center of his brow.

It was a tiny point of light, like a grain of sand, the endpoint of his battle qi circulation.

The thumb-thick, deep purple arc of battle qi disappeared without a trace after entering this tiny point, leaving behind what seemed like a bottomless abyss.

The only thing that remained was a lingering, ethereal purple aura, which gathered around the point of light.

He had only recently discovered this.

This was the "Sword Saint's Legacy."

The biggest difference between a Saint-level expert and a Heavenly Knight is that a crystal grows in the pineal gland of the brain. Through this crystal, a Saint-level expert can manipulate battle qi to control external energy.

No one knows how this is formed. Attempts have been made to artificially implant crystals to create Saint-level experts, but all have failed.

The tiny speck of light before him, no bigger than a grain of sand, couldn't yet be considered a crystal, but with its existence, he would eventually reach the Saint level.

Suddenly, Richie heard footsteps approaching. The footsteps were unfamiliar, and he couldn't recognize who they were. The

entire area within a kilometer of the town was sealed off; only his women could enter, so he didn't care.

When the person approached, she was clearly startled by what she saw. It took her a while to say, "You certainly know how to enjoy yourself! And you're really something else, aren't you?"

Hearing the voice, Richie realized who had arrived.

It was Sophia.

"Parkington's army has finally arrived?" Richie asked. He calculated the time; it was about right.

The one who had arrived was probably the vanguard. "I came alone. I brought you Annelia's apologies." Sophia walked over, blushing, and began to undress as she went. Being the only one dressed made her feel uncomfortable.

No foreplay was needed; when her little leather panties came off, her legs were already dripping with sticky fluid.

Richie pulled her close. Sophia's buttocks sank down, swallowing the enormous thing completely.

"Is this the apology you're talking about?" Richie asked, close to Sophia's ear. "

That little brat offended you, why should I apologize for her? If she wants to apologize, she should do it herself," Sophia said disdainfully.

In this world, only the descendants of the Thunder Emperor's lineage dared to show disdain for the Holy Emperor's direct descendants.

"Wasn't Her Majesty the Empress supposed to apologize? Why doesn't she do it herself?" Richie recalled his passionate night with Annelia. He had to admit, that Empress was indeed very captivating.

Sophia gently poked Richie's forehead with her finger and whispered, "You're dreaming. For at least the next eight months, don't even think about touching Annelia again."

"Eight months?" Richie's heart skipped a beat. "She's pregnant again?"

Sophia didn't answer, but instead clenched her lower body tightly, then chuckled and said, "I want one too. Will you give me one?"

"Do you want to go to war pregnant?" Richie asked, gently stroking Sophia's buttocks.

Sophia's buttocks were round and perky, indeed suitable for childbearing.

"Of course, we'll talk about it after the war." She glanced at the women lying around them. "They might be a different story."

Richie wasn't surprised. He had actually noticed long ago that, apart from those few female Celestial Knights, everyone else seemed to want to extract some semen from him during sex. Once he ejaculated, those women would definitely do everything in their power to prevent a single drop from leaking out.

"I heard you can merge with the AI and possess infinite computing power. Is that true or not?" Sophia had come specifically for this. In fact, after receiving this news, the Parkington leadership immediately had it analyzed.

The intelligence department meticulously analyzed everything that had happened after Richie became a knight, and finally discovered that Richie had indeed made rapid progress after obtaining those two AIs. Before that, he simply possessed infinite imagination and exceptionally sharp thinking. Another piece

of evidence was that Richie had always had an unsolvable problem: his foreign language skills were extremely poor. After obtaining those two AIs, he suddenly became a linguistics expert.

Parkington was almost certain that what Richie said was true, but they still wanted Sophia to come and verify it.

"How do you want me to prove it?" Richie felt somewhat frustrated. He had told the truth, yet some people still didn't believe him.

Sophia didn't want Richie to prove anything; that would be too foolish. She smiled and asked, "This must be some kind of unknown Nen ability, right?"

"I don't know," Richie replied, unable to answer. He had been practicing Nen techniques for a long time, but had never achieved anything significant. Because of this, he had never sensed that it was a Nen ability. However, he could use a long-distance communication device, which should be a Nen user's prerogative.

"By the way, why didn't you let Lauralis ask me about this?" Richie felt a little strange. Was it because Lauralis had become too close to him, causing Parkinton to no longer trust her?

"Because there are some things only the direct descendants of the Holy Emperor and the Thunder Emperor are qualified to know. We suspect that your ability comes from the Holy Emperor's bloodline." Sophia suddenly became serious. "We've checked all the documents related to the first Holy Emperor, many of which are over a thousand years old. From these documents, we did find that the first Holy Emperor seemed to have the same ability as you. The second Holy Emperor also inherited this ability, but it was much weaker, and it completely disappeared by the third generation."

"Should I feel honored?" Richie sneered.

"No need for that. However, from now on, your bloodline will be a rare commodity." Sophia squeezed Richie's penis tightly again.

"So, I'll have more luck with women in the future?" Richie asked maliciously.

To his surprise, Sophia suddenly grabbed his manhood and squeezed it hard: "Annelia wants to restrict the flow of blood. She's already spoken to Carlos about this, and we're going to strictly control this thing of yours."

Although her tone was very stern, the smile on Sophia's face proved she was joking.

Annelia had indeed spoken to Carlos, but what they discussed was strict supervision of Leach's offspring, and that both countries would provide female knights to Leach, both to keep him firmly in check and to effectively restrict the flow of blood.

Chapter 3: The Situation Changes

The sky was overcast, and the snow continued to fall, turning the earth into a pristine white.

Because the snow was so heavy, everything a hundred meters away was covered in white. This kind of weather was not suitable for military operations, but at this moment, there was the rumble of vehicles everywhere, as well as the swishing sound of sleds sliding by.

At least half of the troops concentrated in the center line had begun to move.

Although the heavy snow obscured everyone's vision, the vehicles maintained their neat formation, as if bound together by an invisible chain.

Suddenly, all the vehicle doors burst open, and countless armored warriors leaped from them.

These warriors, like bees leaving their hive, spread out in an instant; the scene appeared chaotic, yet upon closer inspection, it was remarkably orderly.

At this moment, in the command center, countless eyes were fixed intently on screens of various sizes.

In front of each screen sat at least three people: a liaison officer, a staff officer transferred from the general staff, and a telepath responsible for communications with distant targets.

Just as Lich had demonstrated, everything the troops were doing was clearly displayed before them.

Gone was the hierarchical command of legions, corps, battalions, companies, and platoons; here, every order could be transmitted to every platoon in an instant.

Suddenly, several screens flickered, and then the images on them vanished, some becoming blank, others turning completely black.

The officers sitting in front of the screen panicked for a moment, but they quickly calmed down; although the image was gone, they could still communicate with the other side.

Old Man Carlos and the middle-aged man stared intently at the screen where the image had suddenly disappeared; not only them, but all the other generals did the same.

This was what someone had mentioned before: the alliance would eventually go all out, completely destroying communication links, rendering both sides blind and mute.

"The effect seems pretty good," Carlos nodded and said softly, clearly quite satisfied with the current situation.

"Looks like the backup plan won't be needed," the middle-aged man said, a rare smile appearing on his face.

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