[The Hidden One] Episodes 28-30 (Complete) Author: Blood Coral

【The Hidden Hermit】

Author: Blood Coral
Publisher: Hetu Culture

Chapter 1 ◆ Alliances and Counter-Alliance

In February, while the north remained covered in ice and snow, the south was already warm and spring-like, especially along the coast. Everyone was dressed in light clothing, the roads were crowded with pedestrians, and the docks were bustling with activity.

A merchant ship was slowly approaching the dock. The sailors threw the mooring rope ashore, where a group of laborers were already waiting. They quickly grabbed the rope and pulled with all their might.

With a soft thud, the ship's gunwale and the dock were joined.

The laborers skillfully tied the rope to the wooden stakes on the dock.

The ship's captain casually tossed a handful of copper coins down—payment for the laborers.

The laborers scrambled for the coins, but they remained orderly, not fighting over a single coin.

Just as chaos erupted on the dock, a man and a woman stepped ashore. The man was young and handsome, the woman stunningly beautiful; the only incongruity was that the woman was older than the man.

Anyone who saw this couple would assume they had some kind of ambiguous relationship, so their gazes were all somewhat off.

Nice felt the intense stares from all around him, and he felt helpless. He swore to God that nothing had happened between him and Linda.

To be honest, he had traveled with a woman for a month and hadn't slept with her—even he found it hard to believe.

"Your port is very well built,"

Linda said, looking around from the dock.

This was the dock originally built for the trading square. It had only four piers, but since the Rose Cross Trading Company took control of the port, they had begun to renovate it. Now the entire dock had been transformed, with over a dozen piers lined up, all filled with ships.

Today's Asakus was no longer the Asakus of the past. Thanks to the luxury goods trade, this port attracted merchants from all over, and the piers full of ships were the best proof of that.

Suddenly, a "clang, clang" sound came from behind.

Linda turned her head and saw a dozen or so flatbed carts, all loaded with goods, coming along the tracks.

The carts were heading towards the Trading Square.

"The Trading Square seems much bigger than before?"

Linda asked uncertainly.

Linda had been here two years ago, but at that time the Trading Square had just been built; even the facade wasn't finished, and no merchants had moved in.

"Metro has been expanding the Trading Square for the past two years; the original space is no longer enough,"

Nice said with a hint of pride.

When the Trading Square was initially built, he only intended to move the cramped commercial area behind the docks; he never imagined it would develop into such a large space. Therefore, the design was based on the number of shops already existing in Asaks at the time.

After Governor Cerhalan's people arrived, bringing a large number of merchants from Iberia, the Trading Square became insufficient.

Fortunately, the location chosen for the Trading Square was an open area on the west side of Asaks, so there was no shortage of space for expansion. Furthermore, the designer, Ister, was from the Has family, not far from Asaks. Metro and he had spent a year expanding the Trading Square fivefold.

"You go to the Trading Square first, I'll go to the shipyard,"

Nice said to Linda.

With any other woman, Nice would definitely have slipped her some money; a woman with money could easily spend a whole day in the Trading Square. But he didn't do that with Linda, because she wasn't his woman, but a friend.

"I also want to see the shipyard,"

Linda said. She wasn't interested in shopping; she was a mage, and her friends were all mages. Gorgeous dresses and dazzling jewelry meant nothing to her.

Nice thought for a moment and understood. Asaks' shipbuilding technology wasn't advanced, and there weren't many secrets.

The shipyard was to the east of Asaks, in the opposite direction from the Trading Square. In fact, Asaks' workshops had already moved here.

This wasn't Metro's deliberate arrangement. Initially, there was only a workshop for boiling fine white sugar here. Later, Caoni ran out of space to continue building shipyards, so they had to move the shipyard here. Shipbuilding and timber processing are closely linked, so a carpentry workshop was also added. When the butter processing workshop was set up, all the giant wooden barrels needed were made by this workshop. Those giant barrels were difficult to move, so the butter processing workshop was located in this area, and from then on, this became the workshop area.

Before even reaching the shipyard, Nice and Linda could hear the clanging of planks being nailed.

The entire shipyard was bustling with activity, with longships half-built in each dock.

Judging from the skeletal structure, these longships were somewhat different from the original design of Sea Dog Sikos. When Sikos designed these longships, Caoni only had some less skilled carpenters and no shipbuilding workers, so he could only design in a simple direction, using straight lines whenever possible and avoiding curves.

It's not like it was back then. Every three months, a new batch of apprentices graduates from Caoni's school. After another six months of work at the shipyard there, most of them become skilled shipbuilders, qualified by the time they arrive in Asaks.

Moreover, Asaks is an alluring port. People who feel they have no chance to showcase their talents elsewhere all come here to try their luck. While top-tier shipbuilders don't come, it's incredibly attractive to ordinary shipbuilders.

Since there's no shortage of shipbuilders, there's no need for simple designs anymore, as they do affect the ship's performance.

The redesigned longships have much more graceful lines, like curved willow leaves. The square sterns, which looked like they'd been completely cut off, are now beautifully rounded.

Nice stood in the dock watching the shipbuilders work; news of his arrival had already been reported. Although the shipyard wasn't as heavily guarded as the sugar mill, it was still well-protected, with eyes and ears watching from within a hundred meters.

A moment later, the steward in charge of the area rushed over.

"How long does it take to build a ship like this?"

Nice asked directly, pointing to a warship that was half-built.

It was a small warship with thirty-two oars, each requiring two sailors, and could carry fifty or sixty soldiers.

All the shipyards were building warships of this size; Metro had clearly abandoned medium and large warships.

Nice didn't know this, but he absolutely agreed with Metro's decision. When they were conscripted to the battlefield, the entire force numbered only about fifty men.

One could imagine that those who answered the Frankish king's call to profit from the war weren't much wealthier than they were then; most of the troops probably could only afford small warships.

"My lord, it will take a month and a half to complete. Lord Metro immediately ordered the workers to rush the work after receiving your letter, even giving them only two days off for the New Year. Even so, the first batch of ships won't be ready until mid-month,"

the steward replied cautiously.

This number was barely satisfactory to Nice. There were over sixty shipyards here, plus the dozen or so in Kaoni, which could build nearly eighty small warships in a month and a half. If the shipyards in Iberia were added, they should be able to gather six hundred warships in six months.

This number seemed astonishing; each ship, if fully staffed with sailors and soldiers, would have a force of seventy thousand. However, if actually deployed at sea, it would probably be far from sufficient, only barely enough to blockade enemy ports.

"My lord, I have something to report to you. It seems other ports have also heard the news, and all the shipyards have begun building warships,"

the steward whispered.

"Don't worry, they can't compete with us,"

Nice said confidently.

Shipbuilding wasn't like forging swords or armor; once the technology was learned, it could be used immediately. Shipbuilding is a complete system, requiring not only skilled shipbuilders but also a large number of qualified shipbuilders.

It wasn't easy for Asaks to possess such resources.

They started establishing a school two years ago, encountering numerous obstacles along the way. Initially, most workshop owners were opposed from the bottom of their hearts. If it weren't for his control of the trading square and the cream business, forcing those workshop owners to yield, Kaoni's school probably wouldn't have been able to open at all.

Two years ago, Asaks was just a small port with an underdeveloped manufacturing industry. The workshop owners didn't have much influence; if larger cities like Venetian or Pisa had done the same, those workshop owners would have already revolted.

Therefore, even if other ports wanted to learn, they lacked the determination; it would be impossible to achieve this in less than ten years.

Suddenly, Luke's voice came from afar: "You've finally arrived."

Nice turned around and saw Luke, East, and Metro walking towards them.

"How long have you been here? Is the north alright?"

Nice asked.

"It's been over ten days, and I've been spending the New Year at home. This is probably the last time I'll spend it at home,"

Luke said, a hint of regret in his voice.

He now had a title and his own territory, meaning he was separated from his original family.

Luke and Ister weren't strangers; his feelings for his family were still deep.

After a moment of reflection, Luke continued, "You don't need to worry about things in Shaman. You know how capable Dean Gloryl is. With him around, Shaman won't suffer any losses."

"That's true,"

Nice nodded.

Gloryl, now a high-ranking bishop, was definitely a master at taking advantage, but he wasn't stingy. He was always fair to his people, giving them whatever benefits they deserved. Even when he was just Dean of the Hidden Bag, he was well-liked.

"It seems you plan to focus your efforts back on the South,"

Luke had sensed this when he received the letter. As he spoke, he secretly glanced at Metro.

Metro's feelings were undoubtedly the most complex at that moment.

Previously, everyone's attention was focused on the North, where Metro was the leader. Now, if the focus shifts back to the South, he will immediately be relegated to third place.

However, after experiencing so much, Metro has come to understand his position; he is simply an executor.

Another thing that reassures him is that no one in this small group will interfere, let alone try to seize power.

In this team, Luke is the organizer; even if everyone disagrees with him, they at least acknowledge him. Nice is the planner, skilled at coming up with ideas, and adept at being a hands-off manager. Palm only handles military matters; this guy has no other skills and isn't interested in anything else. Ister was the first among them to define himself; he positioned himself early on as a mediator, so he didn't even develop his own power base.
Nice also noticed Metro's subtle movements. With the focus shifting back to the South, Metro would definitely have his own ideas, but fortunately, he already had a countermeasure.

"We've had enough of that in the past few years; we don't need to anymore,"

Nice sighed.

His solution was very simple: set a very ambitious goal for everyone. Sure enough, the moment those words were spoken, the expressions of the three men opposite them changed. First, they were surprised, then they became excited.

Young people are always more vengeful. The southern city-state alliances had always been unfriendly to them, forcing them to survive in the cracks. To protect their meager profits, they had to give up their lucrative sugar business.

Nice himself was more easygoing; he had nothing to begin with, so he didn't care much. But Luke, Ister, Metro, and Palm were different. Back then, they dreamed of building their own families, of owning territories and titles, all of which required vast sums of money. Giving up the sugar business was tantamount to tearing their flesh and bones out of them.

Now that they had a chance for revenge, they were naturally excited.

The three men opposite them hadn't even considered whether they could succeed.

This was the difference between having a foundation and not having one.

They didn't even need to use Shaman's power; with just a call to arms, many powerful figures would immediately join their ranks.

Since last year, Asaks' original security force had been disbanded. Initially, they borrowed Prince Philip's men, then replaced them with members of the Murphy and Baini tribes. After conquering Shaman, they brought in a new batch of skilled fighters; Xingna alone lent out two hundred goddess warriors.

With strength comes confidence.

"Isn't it a bit too early to break ties with those city-state alliances?"

Luke was cautious. Although he also wanted revenge, he preferred to wait until the time was right.

Nice pondered for a while, then looked at Linda beside him.

"You two talk, I'll take a walk."

Linda was a smart woman, and besides, she had no interest in the conflicts between the various southern ports.

Watching Linda walk away, Nice set up an isolation barrier around them before saying, "There's something I want to discuss with you. It might not be easy for Asaks to fight against the other southern city-state alliances on its own. The best way is to join one of them."

This was an idea he had on his way back from the desert.

Returning from the eastern desert, he and Linda stopped frequently along the way, making sure to stop at each port, sometimes for a day or two.

Having seen so much, he suddenly realized how narrow-minded he had been; the outside world was far more expansive than he had imagined.

"How could you have such an idea?"

Metro asked, his eyes wide. Luke and Easter beside him were equally astonished.

"We were too weak before. If we joined a city-state alliance, we would definitely be completely swallowed up. Now, that's different. We've grown strong enough that no one can devour us. No matter which city-state alliance we join, we will become a member of the highest power hierarchy,"

Nice said confidently.

Nice's confidence didn't just come from his strength, but also from the two cardinals behind him and his exceptionally close relationship with the Frankish King.

If he wanted to be an enemy, they might not care about these two points, but if he wanted to cooperate, no one would dare to betray him.

In this world, having someone behind you doesn't guarantee you'll become a king, but it does guarantee respect and fair treatment.

And that's exactly what Nice wanted.

Luke, Ister, and Metro all fell silent, pondering Nice's suggestion. They had also considered their future path these past few days, but they still had no clue.

"How's it going with Governor Cherharan?"

Luke asked.

It was thanks to Iberia's help that they were where they were today. Logically, if they wanted to join a city-state alliance, the Gesar Alliance should be their first choice.

However, everyone knew this was impractical; otherwise, they would have joined the Gesar Alliance in the first place.

"So we can't choose a city-state alliance that conflicts with the Gesar Alliance,"

Nice said.

By saying this, he was essentially confirming once again that Asakus would not become a member of the Gesar Alliance, which also meant excluding Pisa from the four major alliances.

Pisa was the leader of the many city-state alliances in the south, possessing the greatest strength. To ensure their position was not threatened, the Pisa people used very harsh methods, inevitably creating enmity with other city-state alliances.

"Moran is impossible too,"

Metro knew Nice's situation well.

Initially, the four major city-state alliances in the south suppressed Asakus, but since Asakus established their own power in the north, the other three city-state alliances had relaxed their suppression. Only Morang, because of the Farodi family, still harbored hostility towards Asakus.

"It seems we can only choose Vena,"

Ister said, not mentioning Fren.

Fren was located east of Pisa. To get there, the fleet would have to circle the entire peninsula, then pass through Pisa and enter the Empoli River before reaching Fren.

Comparatively, traveling to Vena is much easier. The shipping route between Asakus and Vena is a straight line, and a fast ship can reach them in just three days.

"Vena also deals in luxury goods, but mainly glassware, gold and silver utensils, and jewelry. Apart from competing with Vena for silk, we don't conflict in other areas."

Metro's mind is entirely on commerce, so he has specifically studied the business directions of various ports.

Soul-like Vena deals in top-tier luxury goods, while Asakus focuses on lower-grade items such as sugar, butter, and spices.

Nis laughed. Luke and the others were right, but that wasn't what he was truly concerned about.

Once Asakus was incorporated into the Vena City-State Alliance, the Vena City-State Alliance's strength would instantly expand, threatening Pisa's dominant position.

Among the four major city-state alliances in the south, Moran and Fren are enemies, both inland cities, mainly engaged in textiles and food processing. Pisa and Vena are another pair of enemies, both ports, and both trade with the Saracens.

Pisa has always held the upper hand, while Vena has been at a disadvantage. The people of Vena have long harbored resentment, but their strength is no match for Pisa. If Asaks were to be incorporated into the Vena city-state alliance, the situation would be completely different.

"Ister, if you have time, go to Vena,"

Nis said.

He didn't send Luke, nor did he send the eloquent Metro, because he valued Ister's awkward position within the Has family.

Everything has its uses. Ister wasn't highly regarded by the Has family, but he was still under their protection, and the people of Vena would never dare to offend them.

"What about me?"

Luke pointed to himself.

"You're in charge of collecting taxes. This was originally supposed to be Palm's job,"

Nis said somewhat helplessly.

"No problem."

Luke was looking for something to do. To be honest, he was envious of everyone else's achievements. Although he was always included in the evaluation of military exploits, Luke still felt uncomfortable. He didn't want others to think he had succeeded because of others.

"Should I summon Palm as well?"

Metro asked.

"No need. One person must remain in the north as well."

Nyss had no real concerns about Shamarn, but if all five of them weren't there, the Rosicrucian Order would lack presence and eventually be marginalized. As long as one person was present, the Rosicrucian Order would be involved in any discussion, demonstrating their existence.

News of Nyss's return to Asaxe spread quickly, and he received a constant stream of visitors in the following days.

Of course, Nyss couldn't refuse these visitors; that would be too impolite. Besides, these people had all supported him in the past and were now his loyal followers.

However, he couldn't afford to waste time on such formalities, so, just like in Shamarn, he used a puppet identical to himself to meet the visitors.

The real Nyss hid in the basement of the Rosicrucian Order headquarters.

In the very center of this basement, the Earth Placenta lay quietly.

Within the Earth Placenta were fourteen magical armors, shrouded in countless fine threads, seemingly motionless for decades, covered in a spiderweb-like network. On

the fourth day after Nice returned to Asakus, Emily brought the goddess warriors who had remained in Beni, but only Nice and Emily were in the basement at this moment; he didn't intend to let anyone else know of the Earth Placenta's existence.

In the very center of the Earth Placenta was a cocoon the size of a pumpkin, and the little creature was currently inside.

Since the Earth Placenta could revive the inanimate, it must also be effective on living beings.

Nice didn't want the little creature to take risks; if there were any other way, he would never have done this, but the problem was that the little creature was too badly injured. Although the aura of death had been completely withdrawn, the little creature remained in a deep sleep.

He was now desperate, hoping for the best.

From within the cocoon, a strong, powerful heartbeat could be heard.

A hint of joy immediately appeared on Nis's face. After a while, the cocoon stirred, and a faint spiritual fluctuation emanated from it; the little creature had woken up. "Don't move, keep lying down," Nis commanded the little creature telepathically. The cocoon stirred again; clearly, the little creature didn't want to continue sleeping—it had slept long enough—but it immediately sensed something was wrong. It was no longer the size of a fist, nor was it a mouse anymore. Now it was thin and long, looking like its most endearing creature, a snake, but with four legs. It didn't know what was happening. Just then, Nis's voice echoed in its consciousness: "I've infused a drop of dragon blood into your body; now you're no longer a mouse." The little creature twisted its body, examining itself from head to toe. It truly resembled a snake more than a dragon; the young dragon was already quite long and thin, but it was even longer and thinner. Its head resembled a dragon's, but far more refined, without a single sharp angle; its lines were exceptionally smooth. Even its long horns were thin and long like antelope horns, curving into an elegant and beautiful arc that trailed behind its head. Its color had also changed; the little creature, previously shimmering silver as if cast from silver, had now turned to gold. Even more incredibly, the golden light emanated a rich life force. Such a rich life force could certainly not come from dragon blood.

The only thing Nis could think of was the veil of unknown purpose. All five divine artifacts created by the Divine Child possessed the power to alter one's destiny. The Crown of Thorns could convert faith power into holy power and could also inject holy power into a person's destiny, forcibly elevating their level. The True Cross could help others solidify their holiness, and the Holy Cup's function might be to allow one to transcend the holy level and reach a higher realm. As for the last two artifacts—the Spear of Longinus and the Shroud of Turin—everyone believed one represented death and the other resurrection, even his teacher, the old man Simon, thought so.

But Nice had a different idea. Perhaps the Holy Grail could only temporarily elevate one to the Saint level; a complete transformation required death and rebirth—that was the true purpose of the two artifacts. These five artifacts were essentially a set; their function was to transform the form of life. The Virgin Mary's veil was most likely an accidental product, a byproduct of creating this set of artifacts. While it possessed the ability to transform life forms, to see the effects, the recipient had to experience near-death and resurrection, and its effects weren't as powerful as the set of artifacts. Nice was naturally pleased with this outcome. He had initially worried that if the Church knew he kept a dragon, they might cause him trouble. Now, even if the Church knew, they would only consider it a gift from God. Although dragons are considered the embodiment of evil, legend has it that several golden dragons reigned under God's throne. These dragons were not evil or filthy creatures, but rather embodiments of purity and justice.

Having calmed the little creature, Nice's attention shifted to the magical armor. The armor hadn't changed much, only becoming slightly thinner. All the muscle fibers had been rearranged, becoming denser. Nice didn't intend to alter the armor too much; the original armor was already quite good, with only one flaw needing improvement: its reaction speed was somewhat slow. There was a delay between the brain making a decision and the armor reacting. Previously, this delay had nearly led to his assassination attempt; the little creature had deflected an arrow, saving his life. He didn't want such a thing to happen again. The new armor would no longer have this delay.

The armor had long since stopped growing, but Nice wasn't in a hurry to remove it. Beside him were two bags. One was filled with various crystal cores, all cheap but far superior to those taken from the demon rats. The other bag was filled with vines gleaming with a metallic sheen. These vines were specially cultivated by him, watered with nutrients rich in metallic components. The vines absorbed the metallic components, resulting in their current state. The Earth Placenta could only absorb living matter; if a piece of metal were thrown in directly, it would be expelled. That's why Nice had gone to such lengths. These two materials were placed into the Earth Placenta, and immediately they decomposed. Simultaneously, fine lines appeared on the ten pieces of demonic armor, as if they were growing directly onto the armor, with crystal cores forming on them. In just a short time, all the lines were complete; all that remained was for these magical patterns to grow naturally. This wasn't the first time Nice had done this. Before Emily and the others even arrived, he had already experimented with his own demonic armor. The Earth Placenta truly lives up to its reputation as a divine artifact born of nature. Even if it fails, it doesn't matter; the failed part will dissolve on its own and be reassembled. Just like in the Pantheon. The only difference is that there is no loss in the Pantheon, while the Earth Placenta requires replenishing materials. A bell rang, summoning Nice from the basement. Upon entering the hall, he saw that Easter had returned. Easter had gone to Vena as requested, and judging from the joy on her face, she accepted the suggestion from the Soul Will side. Not only Easter but also Melott was in the hall; only Luke was missing.

"Where's Luke?" Nice asked. "He's still at the beach. I've already sent someone to fetch him," Metro said, while instructing his men to prepare food. Nice wasn't in a hurry to ask Easter about his harvest. Since Luke would be back soon, it was better to wait until everyone was gathered. Not long after, the sound of hooves came from outside, and a moment later, Luke rushed in. The servants had already prepared the food, and the four of them sat down at the table.

"As soon as I arrived in Vena, I went to the governor's mansion to see Governor Kavi. When I told him that Asaks intended to merge with Vena and become a member of the Vena City-State Alliance, the governor was extremely surprised, and then jumped up with joy," Ister said excitedly.

"He probably had this idea for a while." Nice was now a master at reading people's minds. Vena was not Iberia; Vena practiced a republic, and the governor was elected. Those who could sit in this position were all extremely shrewd, and it was hard to imagine that he would lose his composure like this.

"Vena has been fighting fiercely with Morang for the past two years, so it has been unable to focus on the sea for a while. Pisa has taken the opportunity to continuously suppress Vena's naval power," Ister said, revealing the key point. Those who were not involved would never know these things. The confrontations between these city-state alliances all used an invisible method. The struggle between Morang and Vena was mainly based on bribery and infiltration. They fought fiercely, but there was no visible smoke of gunpowder on either side.

"What are the conditions for the merger?"

Metro was more concerned about this.

"They accepted all the conditions we proposed,"

Ister gave a reassuring answer.

This was understandable, though. When they proposed the conditions, they considered whether the other party could accept them. The conditions neither took advantage of the Vena people nor made them seem inferior; the core of the conditions was mutual benefit.

Vena people could open trading posts in Asaks, and Asaks people could also open trading posts there. Both sides would pay taxes according to Vena's tax rate, and trade between Vena and Asaks would be taxed as domestic trade. Both sides would abide by the laws of the Soul Clan.

Under these conditions, Asaks would essentially become a district under Vena's jurisdiction.

Anyone else would certainly not want to give up the management of this port, since the Rose Cross was currently the only major power here, and they had the final say in everything. But Luke and his group didn't care because they had already set a precedent.

After they built the trading square, the Soul Clan relinquished management rights, and a management committee was formed by the shop owners and workshop owners.

Subsequent events proved that the Rose Cross Trading Company's influence did not diminish; on the contrary, it grew even stronger. During the expansion of the trading square, the Rose Cross Trading Company made all the decisions, with the management committee merely assisting and contributing manpower.

Because of this precedent, Luke and his companions knew that maintaining their positions depended on their own strength.

With strength, others would elevate you to your rightful place; without strength, clinging to a position would only invite hatred and make you a target.

"I also told them that in response to the Frankish King's call, we plan to form a fleet,"

Ister continued. This matter definitely needed to be discussed with Vena. "Governor Kavi seems hesitant; he doesn't want to get involved in the Frankish-English war. Besides, Vena also restricts the number of private soldiers allowed by each faction."

Nice fell silent, and everyone else looked at him.

"This can also be solved. We can form a group of mercenary legions. It's not just the Vena Alliance that restricts private soldiers; Pisa and Morang do the same," Nice quickly came up with a solution.

Mercenary legions are different from mercenary groups. The former is a unified entity, with most members coming from one place and not easily recruiting from outside. The latter is often a self-organized group, with members coming from different places.

Many city-state alliances restrict both. The danger of mercenary legions lies in their potential for rebellion, possibly usurping the city-state alliance's rule; the danger of mercenary groups lies in their potential for loss of control. For some reason, a mercenary group might suddenly disband, and the enraged mercenaries could turn into bandits—this has happened before.

"I'll handle it. At most, it'll be a bit of a hassle with them. Vena is already embroiled in a lot of trouble and has no ability to protect this place. We can only protect ourselves." Metro had already come up with an excuse. "

Although we'll be incorporated into Vena and enforce Vena's laws, the army will still remain in our own hands."

Luke was also very clear about what they couldn't give up. Viscount Bellandos was only able to keep causing them trouble because of the security forces he controlled.

"Don't always think about confrontation. To show our sincerity, we can move our headquarters to Vena and bring a group of people from here with us. Compared to Asaks, Vena has a much wider market."

Nice had to calm things down for those people.

"That's true."

Metro was the first to respond.

This guy had long coveted Vena's huge market.

Asaks was growing rapidly, but it had now hit a bottleneck, and with the opening of white sugar sales, other places could also produce high-quality butter. The butter business was one of Asaks' main sources of revenue, but it had shrunk by 30% last year and would definitely continue to shrink this year, so they had to find new sources of revenue.

“We can build a trading plaza there too,”

Easter suggested, now thoroughly enjoying his architectural projects.

“How many people will respond?”

Luke asked.

Metro thought for a moment, then held up two fingers. “Only 20%?”

Luke was extremely dissatisfied with the answer.

“20% is already quite good.”

Easter knew Metro had deliberately set a trap: “The number of trading houses and workshops in Asaks is now about six times what it used to be. If 20% of them are willing to go with us, it’s equivalent to emptying out the entire original Asaks.” Having

reached an agreement, Metro immediately summoned the owners of various trading houses. He gathered only his loyal followers, the original Asaks people. Most of these people used to be just shop owners, but after the trading plaza was built, they all transformed, turning their shops into trading houses, which have grown significantly in the last two years.

Easter, yawning, headed towards his room; he needed to rest.

With nothing to do, Nice was doing well. The magical armor within the Earth's placenta was growing on its own, requiring no supervision. The little creatures wouldn't emerge for another two or three days.

"How's your preparation going?"

Nice asked, pulling Luke aside.

Luke knew Nice wasn't asking about something as trivial as recruiting sailors. He was responsible for selecting the best sailors. King Louis had announced the sailing competition would be held in mid-March, and it was early February, leaving a month and a half for preparation. "The men are all chosen, all between twenty-five and thirty years old, and have worked on ships for at least ten years,"

Luke said confidently. He knew Nice was determined to win the competition.

For others, the championship was just an honor, but for Nice, it concerned his next plan.

Hearing this, Nice finally felt a little relieved, but then he worried about the ship.

The Frankish king had arranged the time so tightly so that everyone would bring out existing ships to compete, rather than building a special ship for the competition.

If Nice used life-creation magic, she could build a flawless fast ship in a very short time. Unfortunately, the notice explicitly prohibited any abnormal means.

Ships used in the competition had to be built by ordinary workers using ordinary materials, with no magic or divine spells allowed, and knights were not permitted to help with the work.

"Do you think someone might cheat?"

Nice asked Luke.

She asked Luke instead of others because Luke often had mischievous ideas. It was Luke who secretly slipped her that booklet, waiting to see her make a fool of herself. So, Luke was more knowledgeable about these petty tricks than Mettler and East.

Besides, Luke was meticulous and could always spot loopholes in plans; such people were also best at exploiting loopholes.

Luke's eyes lit up, and she immediately replied, "It's not impossible. The notice is very strict, but it doesn't specify what kind of wood to use for the ship. Pine and oak are definitely different."

Nice's eyes lit up, and she immediately ran towards the shipyard.

A few minutes later, the shipyard butler blinked, looking at Nice in astonishment. "Are you sure you want to use paulownia wood for the deck and the part above the waterline?"

"I'm not joking,"

Nice said with absolute certainty.

He was definitely more ruthless than Luke, who only thought of pine, while he simply used paulownia.

If he weren't worried about the ship's durability in a collision, he would have even considered replacing the entire part below the waterline with paulownia. "In that case, even the oars probably won't be able to support it; paulownia is too soft."

The butler was quite knowledgeable; he was originally a shipbuilder.

"There should be ways to reinforce it, right?"

Nice didn't care. Although he didn't know how to build ships, he was an expert in construction. When they built the church in Kaoni, he and Ister devised many ways to cut corners. The walls of that church were made of a bunch of circular frames pieced together, with only a thin layer of stone slabs on the inside and outside. The Kaoni estate was the same.

"If you only plan to use it once, then there's certainly no problem,"

the butler quickly replied.

"Don't worry, it only needs to be used once."

Nice didn't seem to care at all; the troll armor he and the Templar Knights had spent a tremendous amount of money to create was completely ruined after just one use.

"If you insist, I'll do my best, but the shipyard doesn't have that much paulownia wood,"

the deacon replied meekly.

"That's no problem."

Nice planned to make the trip himself, forbidding the use of magic and the assistance of knights from the start of construction; however, there were no restrictions on the preparation of the timber.

Chapter Two ◆ Before the Race

On the sea, a fast ship cleaved through the waves, its thirty-two oars constantly propelling it.

This small ship surprisingly had four masts, each adorned with a huge sail.

Inside the cabin, an old sailor shouted commands, and the oarsmen rowed in rhythm with them.

On deck, many sailors were busy, carefully adjusting the sails. This was a technical task; the winds in the southern seas were unpredictable, requiring constant changes in sail direction, and in the North Sea, where the winds were strong and the waves high, even greater caution was needed.

Suddenly, from the top of the mast, the lookout shouted, "Ship! A ship is coming this way!"

Upon hearing this, a group of people rushed out of the stern cabin.

Nice leaped to the top of the mast, gazing into the distance on tiptoe.

Sure enough, eight ships were approaching, spreading out—some heading straight ahead, others seemingly trying to outflank them.

"Just as I thought,"

Nice sneered.

He'd had a premonition before setting sail that someone was targeting him. He'd noticed suspicious figures lurking on the docks, and along the way, they'd encountered numerous suspicious-looking vessels.

This was a route no ships ever normally traversed.

Nice clipped a chip to his eye socket, instantly bringing the distant scene closer. "Who are those?"

Luke shouted from below.

"Most likely English, disguised as barbarian pirates,"

Nice said dismissively.

The dozen or so ships were all barbarian warships, their prows and sterns high and curved with unusually smooth lines, but covered by a deck.

The barbarian ships had no decks. It wasn't that they couldn't build them, but they stubbornly believed that men should be able to withstand wind and rain. The English, descendants of the barbarians, didn't care about this.

However, Nice wasn't entirely sure if they were English; they could also be Pisaans or Morangans.

Pisa had a bad reputation; to control the southern seas, they often disguised themselves as pirates to attack passing merchant ships. Morang and he had a deep-seated hatred for Morang, and if they could kill him, the Morangans would certainly be willing to do so.

"Need my help?"

a bearded man in a mage's robe asked loudly.

This man was Linda's senior brother.

The dragon Nice gave Linda was nominally to repay a favor, but it was actually a gift to Thousand Forest Tower.

Dragons grow slowly, and while other magical beasts could be accelerated using secret methods, no one would be willing to do that to a rare species like a dragon. Therefore, it would definitely be allowed to grow naturally, which meant that Linda would have to wait at least seventy or eighty years to travel around on it. By then, even if Linda was still alive, she would definitely be too old to walk.

Thousand Forest Tower couldn't possibly remain silent after receiving such an extraordinary gift. They established a branch in Asaks and even sent two great mages, one of whom was the bearded man before them.

"There's another great mage over there,"

Nis said, staring at a distant ship. A tall mage stood at the bow, holding a long staff topped with a sphere that continuously spewed blue flames.

Upon hearing this, the bearded mage frowned. He abruptly waved his hand, and a silver sparrow soared into the sky. Thousand Forest Tower's mages were mostly skilled in summoning magic, using the control of magical beasts as a means of combat. They didn't need magical devices to observe distant movements; the silver sparrow was its eye.

After a moment, the bearded mage said with unusual seriousness, "That's Ur Staven. Don't be fooled by him; he's a mental mage."

Nice was startled. He immediately realized that the blue flame was likely the Soul Flame, and anyone who could create such a thing was definitely not a simple person.

"There's no need to fight them head-on,"

the bearded mage suggested. He was actually somewhat unsure. Soul was a great mage, born in the Thousand Forest Tower, and more skilled in research, while Ur Staven's reputation was earned through strength.

However, the bearded mage wasn't entirely without ability. He cast a spell towards the sea, and in a moment, the water churned on one side of the ship, revealing a huge, smooth back.

Nice didn't know what kind of sea beast it was, but he knew that this creature was definitely not something a warship could contend with in the sea.

"Throw the ropes into the water! I'll have my magical beasts pull this ship forward,"

the bearded mage shouted.

Nice stared in astonishment at the creature, this bearded, seemingly fierce and domineering man, whose first thought was to flee.

"Throw the mooring ropes overboard,"

Nice ordered, following his instructions.

The ropes were thrown far out, and the sea monster, surprisingly clever, snatched them in its jaws and began to drag them along.

Everyone on board felt a violent jolt as the ship sped off at an unimaginable speed.

"Quick, lower all the sails!"

the captain shouted.

The sails billowed in the oncoming wind, as if about to tear apart at any moment. The stunned sailors on deck snapped out of their daze and frantically lowered the sails.

While they were busy lowering the sails, a dozen or so red lights shot towards them from the opposite direction. These lights weren't intense, but they were incredibly fast.

Nice had never seen such weapons before, but he had read naval weapon catalogs and knew that some weapons could attack targets tens of kilometers away.

These types of weapons weren't particularly powerful; their purpose wasn't to kill, but rather to harass.

"Stop them!"

Nice commanded.

A series of soft whooshing sounds followed, and a row of round shields along the ship's side spun and flew through the air, forming a line a hundred meters ahead on the port side.

A ball of red light flew closer, and a round shield met it head-on. With a soft bang, the red light exploded, blasting the shield away.

Nice casually reached out and grabbed the blasted shield, immediately slowing its speed. It spun around and flew back.

The sounds of bangs continued, shields flying in all directions, but they had fulfilled their mission, blocking the enemy's attack.

Suddenly, Nice sensed a murderous aura.

Before he could understand what was happening, a seemingly insignificant ball of red light abruptly changed direction, bypassing the round shields and flying towards him.

Unlike the other red lights, this one contained a vague, ethereal humanoid figure.

"Mental Imprint."

Nice was taken aback.

This was the most basic magic in the mental magic system, only slightly higher in level than Illumination. It allowed one to attach a portion of their mental energy to a physical object.

Illumination could advance to the Saint level at its highest level, and so could Mental Imprint.

That guy named Ur could imprint mental marks on his offensive magic, and with that alone, he was far stronger than most archmages.

Magic usually locks onto a target and is launched, then lost control afterward. But this guy was different. Magic imprinted with a mental mark seemed to be part of his body, completely under his control. Just imagine his fireballs dodging obstacles and tracking targets, his lightning bolts knowing how to maneuver and flank—that's how formidable he was.

The red light was incredibly fast, much faster than an arrow fired from a crossbow. Just when Nice had no way to dodge, his body twisted strangely. The red light, which had been aimed directly at Nice's chest, struck his left shoulder instead.

Before the red light could explode, the humanoid figure within it suddenly began to fluctuate violently, as if it had been a reflection in water, now rippled by a stone thrown into it, the reflection distorting and undulating accordingly.

This was the little creature's power; it was no longer a rat. Although it had only absorbed a drop of dragon blood, the power of the dragon was too immense. After its rebirth, it had become a dragon, its rat component less than one-thousandth. As a dragon, it naturally possessed dragon might.

This talent of the dragon was stronger than any mental magic, and the mental imprint on the red light was instantly shattered.

Nex was not slow either; he abruptly released his mental power, enveloping the collapsing mental fluctuations.

The red light exploded, its power completely deflected by the soft armor. However, Nex was not entirely unscathed. This red light possessed a shockwave characteristic, and his internal organs felt as if his soul was being churned in a storm. But the greater damage was to his mental state; after all, his opponent was a great mage, and even a trace of mental power attached to magic was stronger than his.

The mental battle was far more dangerous than any other form of combat. Nise felt dizzy, everything spinning before his eyes.

Just then, a dozen more red lights flew towards them, one of them bypassing the shield and heading straight for them, just like before.

This time, before Nise could give the order, the little creature flashed golden light and darted out of its cage, its tail whipping out to disperse the red light.

Its movements were so fast that those below couldn't even see it clearly, only a golden light swirling around Nise, scattering the incoming red light.

This attack ignited the little creature's ferocity.

Before, it was a rat, naturally possessing the timid nature of a rat, but now it was a dragon, even if only a mutated sub-dragon, its bloodline vastly different from a true dragon, making it exceptionally violent.

It transformed into a golden light and shot towards the opposite side.

The Red-backed Lava Serpent Dragon was already fast, and the little creature had never been slow before; while in the Earth Placenta, Nise had deliberately infused it with a few drops of Silverwing Swallow blood. It also had a pair of wings on its back, but they were membranous wings, usually folded up and invisible, only unfolding when flying.

A flash of golden light appeared, followed by a deafening roar, and a ship in the distance was blasted away.

Another flash of golden light, and the little creature flew back to Nice's side, sticking its head into a pouch at Nice's waist. This pouch was filled with lightning beads.

As a rat, the little creature was already an adult, but after fusing with dragon blood, it was only a young dragon. Young dragons didn't yet have the ability to breathe fire, so Nice had devised this method.

Just as the little creature was about to attack again, Nice said softly, "Alright, these are all minor characters. Killing them wouldn't be very meaningful."

The little creature reluctantly spat the lightning beads back, then darted back into its cage. Standing on the mast, Nice stared at the remaining seven enemy ships. If it weren't for the fact that half of his ship was made of paulownia wood, he would definitely continue fighting.

Of course, if the enemy didn't intend to let him go, he would continue fighting.

Nice was observing the enemy's reaction.

If it was an English ship, they probably wouldn't continue the attack. He had no real grudge against England; he had only made a suggestion to the Frankish King, and that suggestion wasn't without a way to circumvent it.

If it was the fleets of Pisa and Morand, the situation was more complicated. Morand was definitely backed by the Farodi family, their true mortal enemies. Pisa, on the other hand, was involved in the hegemony of the southern seas. Killing this key figure would be extremely beneficial for Pisa.

Time passed slowly, and the warships didn't launch another attack. Nice finally breathed a sigh of relief.

"Great Magician Pietro, I'm counting on you here. I need to go back to my cabin and rest."

Nice feigned serious injury; his face was pale, and his eyes were unfocused, so as not to arouse suspicion.

Pietro agreed.

Nice rushed down from the cabin. He had a separate cabin at the stern. Because it was a small warship, the cabin wasn't large, containing only a single bed, just high enough for him to sit up. To his left was a sliding door, and on the other side was a window overlooking the turbulent sea.

As soon as he entered the cabin, Nice locked the door and sat cross-legged on the bed.

Deep within his consciousness, a cluster of mental energy was enveloped—the spoils he had risked everything to seize.

Nice carefully squeezed this cluster of mental energy.

After a long while, he slowly extracted a

wisp of mental energy. Although it was only a wisp, it was as resilient as a tangible soul; compared to it, Nice's mental strength was far inferior. He very carefully attached his own mental strength to it, grinding it like a grinding wheel. Under this grinding, the thread of mental energy gradually blurred, and after an unknown amount of time, it transformed into countless extremely fine mental fibers, like a stretched thread. Another wisp of spiritual energy was extracted... Nice repeated this process incessantly.

The extremely fine spiritual fibers multiplied, almost filling Nice's consciousness.

These were the seeds; Nice attached his spiritual energy to them, and the spiritual fibers grew at a visible rate.

Seeing that this method was actually effective, Nice was overjoyed.

This wasn't a method of cultivating spiritual magic; at least, he had never heard of any spiritual mage daring to cultivate it this way, because it was far too dangerous—a single mistake could lead to madness.

Nice dared to take this risk because he still had a warrior's soul within his consciousness; if that spiritual fluctuation went out of control, he would have the warrior's soul shield him.

This method was actually used by those who made judgments.

Not all judgments could successfully compress and condense holy power; many simply couldn't do it. Therefore, the Church developed this secret method, allowing another judgment to transfer a wisp of holy power into the veins of newcomers, using this already condensed holy power as a seed to grow within the newcomers' veins.

Now, the secret method used by judgments had a new application.

Nice carefully refined the spiritual fluctuations, searching for what he needed while working with it.

These fluctuations undoubtedly contained the magician's understanding of "spiritual imprints." For this most basic mental magic to possess such miraculous effects, the magician had likely already reached the sixth level or higher.

Nice didn't need to reach such a high level; comprehending the fourth level would already be immensely beneficial.

He had taken shortcuts in cultivating mental magic, resulting in a very weak foundation. If he could comprehend the fourth level of "spiritual imprints," it would be enough to compensate for his deficiencies.

After entering the North Sea, the sea became rougher and the waves higher, making the ship's journey increasingly turbulent. Frustratingly, to avoid another interception, the captain had to replan the route, choosing a longer journey.

Fortunately, Pietro's giant sea monster had good stamina, able to pull the ship for five or six hours each day.

Seven days later, a newly built dock appeared before them.

This dock adopted a traditional form, a long row built along the coast, stretching for seven or eight kilometers.

On a cliff jutting out from the coast in the distance stood a towering wooden tower.

Nice's ship carefully approached the shore; he couldn't afford to be careless, as the upper part of the vessel was made of paulownia wood. "I'll register; you all keep an eye on the ship,"

Nice said to the goddess warriors, though he also meant to tell Pietro and the other magician.

"Isn't it a bit unsafe here?"

Angela asked.

"No need to worry. King Frank is certainly less willing to see anyone causing trouble than I am,"

Nice said, still concerned for his life. However, he dared to say this because he had neither a bad nor a good premonition.

"Don't worry, nothing will happen with me here,"

Emily said, tilting her chin and looking at Angela with disdain.

Among the women, the two were like natural enemies; Angela always mocked Emily as a tagalong, while Emily openly called Angela a slut. Things were better before, but since Angela became pregnant, they were constantly at odds. To win favor, Emily started acting like Angela, becoming increasingly sensual in bed, willing to do anything and appearing particularly wild.

"Alright, stop it,"

Nice stopped the two women's argument, then glanced at Angela and said softly, "Wait for me to come back."

Hearing this, all the women, including Angela, cheered. Nice hadn't dared to be too unrestrained on the ship, so he hadn't touched them much, but once ashore, he was unrestrained and determined to have a good time tonight.

Turning around and pulling Emily along, Nice headed towards the small town near the dock.

It was a newly built town, all the houses constructed of wood; he could even smell the fragrance of the logs, which had been felled no more than half a month ago.

The registration office was in the center of town, where a large house stood. A long table stood in front of the house, behind which sat clerks from the Frankish royal court.

"Viscount Deltwa, you've finally arrived,"

a clerk who recognized Nice quickly stood up. "Please register this for me. My ship is called 'The Footprint of the Angel,' a small warship with thirty-two oars, forty-six meters long and six meters wide, with four masts. It was built in Asax,"

Nice read out the ship's approximate dimensions.

The clerk quickly wrote it down, and a court attendant beside him respectfully handed Nice a bronze plaque with the numbers 127 printed on it—the ship's number.

Nice casually tossed the plaque to Emily.

"Go and take this back to them, and have them nail it somewhere,"

Nice instructed.

After instructing Emily, he turned to the clerk and asked, "When will His Majesty the King arrive?"

"His Majesty arrived long ago. He hopes you will see him immediately upon your arrival,"

the clerk replied with envy.

In his view, gaining the Frankish King's favor was an immense stroke of luck.

"Would you like me to take you there?"

he asked with unusual eagerness.

Nice was about to agree when he heard a cold snort behind him. He quickly turned his head and immediately saw Princess Anna standing there, pouting, with her noble yet flamboyant aunt beside her.

"I know your predicament, so I can forgive you for not coming to Iberia for the New Year, but you should at least have come to visit me afterwards!"

Anna glared at Nice with extreme anger.

"Alright, I'm sorry."

Nice hugged Princess Anna and gently comforted her, but he didn't forget to find a reason for himself: "You know I'm really busy."

Seeing that Princess Anna's anger hadn't subsided, Nice quickly changed the subject: "What? Is the Governor also interested in this competition?"

"Don't stand here, let's go back and talk about it."

Anna's aunt advised from the side, then glared at Nice and said in a low but reproachful voice, "Anna knew you would come, so she's been waiting for you here for days."

These words touched Nice.

He knew Anna's feelings for him; if feelings were a debt, this was definitely a debt he could never repay.

"Once things are settled here, I'll go back to Angel Castle with you,"

Nice promised.

"No, let's go to Shamarne

instead!" Anna knew Nice's dilemma, and she also knew Nice disliked Iberia. Even though her father had promised not to cause any more trouble, the situation probably wouldn't improve. Once a rift appears, it can never be completely healed; she only hoped that a rift wouldn't form between herself and Nice.

"Great, let's go to Sherwood."

Nice didn't intend for Anna to go to Demery; that was Margaret's territory. Even if Margaret didn't have any particular feelings, Anna wouldn't feel comfortable.

"I heard about the outrageous things you did in Sherwood."

A blush rose on Anna's cheeks.

But to be honest, she didn't care.

Anna knew very well how strong Nice's sex drive was; she definitely couldn't handle it alone. Back in Iberia, her aunts, cousins, cousins... a whole bunch of female relatives helped her, and in the end, they were all completely defeated.

She didn't care how many women Nice had; she knew Nice only had lust for them and had no feelings for them.

"My lady, my lady, it really is you!"

A joyful shout shattered the warm atmosphere.

It was a woman, holding a child who looked about three years old and very weak.

"It's you? What brings you here?"

Nice asked, puzzled.

It was Fantine, the mother of the cursed child, the woman who bought his old house.

"I've made some progress on what you asked me to do,"

Fantine said excitedly.

Nice's expression immediately turned serious.

He had returned to his old home and obtained some special jewelry from the town's priest. His task for Fantine was to investigate women who possessed such jewelry.

"Anna, I have important business to attend to now. I'll come see you tonight,"

Nice said apologetically to the little princess.

"Is there some trouble?"

Anna sensed Nice's unusual demeanor.

"I'll tell you later,"

Nice whispered in Anna's ear.

Anna didn't press further. She felt Nice's tone was unusually heavy. She and Margaret were among the few who knew Nice's secret, so they were very sensitive to certain things.

"I'll come see you tonight; it'll be more convenient,"

Anna said.

This New Year was the worst she had ever experienced; there was no joy in it, and she felt something was missing.

Boredom and frustration made her realize many things. Her happiest moments were with Nice, and to achieve that, she had to change.

So she decided to integrate herself into Nice's circle of other women.

Someone like Nice, of course, would have a room of his own. The room was simple, only one story high, with windows on both sides, but having a space of her own in this place was already quite good.

After letting Fantine in, Nice immediately asked, "How did you find this place?"

"Monica told me."

Fantine didn't know what she had done wrong; she could sense Nice's unusual seriousness.

"Monica?"

Nice murmured to himself, the name feeling both strange and familiar.

"Shortly after you left, Monica came to see me. She told me she was doing things for you and asked what I needed. I told her you wanted to open a jewelry business...

"Monica helped me set up the business. She seems to know many people and has good connections in high society. She introduced me to them...

"I didn't tell her what you wanted me to do, and I didn't reveal a word to anyone else. I was very careful and didn't deliberately pry...

"A week ago, Monica came to see me again. She told me you were coming and asked me to wait for you here..."

Fantine recounted the events with trembling hands, speaking very carefully and cautiously, afraid of displeasing Nice in any way.

Nice listened, trying to recall, and after a long while, he finally remembered something. He had indeed had a relationship with a woman with that name, but only once or twice.

Nice remembered this woman because she had masochistic tendencies and could be treated violently by him at will.

"Is Monica here too?"

Nice asked. This wasn't a casual question; he was now very interested in that woman.

From Fantine's words, he was certain she was a very intelligent woman, capable of handling things independently. "Do you want to see her? We all live outside town,"

Fantine said, pointing to a grove of trees in the distance. Not just anyone could live in town. Don't be fooled by the fact that it was just a bunch of wooden houses; here, it was a symbol of status. The sailors participating in the competition could sleep on the ship, while those outside the town had to sleep in tents.

Fortunately, it was already March; the snow had melted, and spring was in full bloom. If it had been a month earlier, there would have been no way to sleep without a campfire at night.

Just as Nice was about to have Fantine take him there, a sudden sense of unease arose in his heart.

On the way here, he had just survived a robbery, and now even the slightest disturbance made him extremely vigilant, let alone such an obvious warning sign.

"Alright, now tell me what you've found out?"

Nice immediately abandoned the idea of going to see what was going on and asked about the important matter.

Fantine didn't answer but instead took out a piece of parchment from her bosom, on which a long list of names was densely written.

Nice snatched the parchment and began to read.

After only one page, his face darkened considerably. He recognized many of the names on it; he even knew the depth of their vaginas, the size of their clitoris, the color of their nipples, and their skill levels. Among them were Xi Ling, Frannie, and Merian.

Then, he thought it made perfect sense.

Those women did fit the criteria; they were all believers in the god of love, perhaps even divinely favored. They were no longer in favor because they were all older; a decade or so ago, they were at the height of their fame.

"How did you find this out?"

Nice asked, utterly bewildered. He had originally thought it would take at least a year and a half to find any clues.

"It's not difficult. I simply had a book of magical jewelry made, with pictures of jewelry that can keep women young forever, including the kind you showed me.

For the past two months, I've been going in and out of those wealthy families, showing the ladies and young misses this book. They're very interested in it.

Once they become interested in something, they'll go to great lengths to find out more. They'll have their maids ask other maids." "

That kind of jewelry isn't anything special; nobody keeps it carefully. The maids just need to open the jewelry box and take a look when the mistress isn't around." "

This list isn't complete. My investigation only covers Benny and some nearby cities."

Fantine explained her method in detail.

Nice's eyes widened. He hadn't expected it to be so easy. There was no need to bribe spies or personally search other people's jewelry boxes; everything could be found through women's gossip.

However, the fact that she came up with this idea was enough to prove that whoever came up with it was incredibly clever.

"Did you come up with this?"

Nice asked.

"No, it was Monica's idea, but I didn't tell her the real reason,"

Fantine said, sounding slightly flustered.

Nice's expression grew even more somber; he hadn't expected another person to know the truth.

He could guess that Fantine had fabricated an explanation, but if that woman named Monica was truly that clever, she certainly wouldn't be fooled.

Fortunately, he hadn't told Fantine the real reason in the first place; even if she had obtained all the information from Fantine, she could only have been misled.

No one but him knew that his father, Henry Nicklauden Conseilco, and Heinz Koster, were Soul-men.

"Have Monica come over tonight,"

Nice suddenly felt the need to meet the clever woman.

At first, he thought she was no different from the other merchant lords desperately trying to curry favor with him, perhaps just a little smarter, but now he sensed something was amiss.

"Tonight?"

Fantine's face flushed crimson. She wasn't a clueless little girl; she could guess what this meant.

Besides, she'd heard quite a bit about Nice over the past two months. Nice had a lot of good reputation, but his bad reputation was even more talked about, especially his prowess with women, which His Majesty the King had confirmed—a topic of conversation at the Beni people's dinner table.

Fantine fled as if running away, afraid that if she stayed any longer, she would become Nice's prisoner like the other women.

She believed the reason she hadn't succumbed to temptation was because she had often heard about Nice from the housekeeper. The housekeeper described Nice as a simple and kind child, so she couldn't possibly equate the two people.

Nice also came out of the room, and as soon as he did, he saw Emily standing coldly five meters away from the door.

"How did your taste become so bad?"

Emily said sourly, watching Fantine's retreating figure.

"Don't talk nonsense,"

Nice reprimanded softly. However, he did need Emily's help: "I have nothing to do with that woman, but I do have something to do with another woman named Monica. Could you investigate Monica's background for me?" Emily snorted

, but she did as she was told.

A moment later, she suddenly widened her eyes, looking Nice up and down. "I... I need to meet that woman. I admire her so much!" Emily exclaimed dramatically.

Nice was completely bewildered.

"What do you admire about her?"

Emily's mouth was still agape, and it took her a long time to say, "Since I met you, I've never seen you suffer any loss. No matter what trouble you're in, you always have a way to solve it. I never expected that woman to give you such a hard time, almost costing you your life... And she's just an ordinary person, she doesn't know magic or martial arts...

" "I almost cost me my life?"

Nice asked doubtfully.

Suddenly, a woman flashed through his mind, a woman he once hated.

He had sworn to bring that woman back and make her suffer all the pain in the world.

"She has a magical device that can block prophecy,"

Emily added.

Nice understood what this meant, of course.

It meant that the woman named Monica was backed by someone else, or even a force.

"Should I prepare some torture instruments for you?"

Emily asked excitedly.

Hearing this, Nice immediately recalled the time he was with Sylvia, that girl who was not only sexually deviant but also a sadist.

"I'm going to see King Louis. When I return, I want to see that you've prepared everything."

Nice's tone was unusually cold.

"You can rest assured."

Emily seemed unusually excited; she hadn't played this kind of game in a long time.

Besides, that woman and Sylvia weren't souls.

Although she was somewhat cruel when she treated Sylvia, she would never dare to actually hurt her. This time, there was no need to be careful; as long as she didn't kill her, it was fine.

Emily began to think about what tools she should prepare.

Nice had no interest in these things. He abandoned Emily and headed alone towards the cliff.

As a king, he certainly wouldn't want anyone else above him, so the king's residence could only be on that cliff.

The path up the mountain was completely blocked, with a palace guard standing every ten meters. At the top of the cliff was a stone castle. The castle was somewhat simple, with only a few large rooms besides a surrounding wall. However, those rooms were modeled after Nice's glass dome, and Nice was brought before the king without needing to be informed.

"You're absolutely the most cunning person I've ever met."

King Louis gave Nice this assessment upon their first meeting.

Nice could easily guess why.

"Governor Cerhalan also brought out a ship, one with the exact same structure as mine. I used paulownia wood for the deck, just to guarantee victory,"

Nice explained nonchalantly.

Besides, he was able to exploit loopholes because the rules His Majesty hadn't been strict enough.

King Louis didn't really take it seriously; he was just making a casual complaint.

"I should have thanked you; you've brought the navy to my attention,"

the young king sighed helplessly.

He was an impatient man; right after the New Year, he had eagerly ordered the coastal lords to gather their fleets. He wanted to inspect the Frankish navy.

"And the result?"

Nice asked.

"Don't even mention it, it's a huge disappointment."

King Louis waved his hand helplessly. "I saw a whole bunch of messy ships, mostly merchant vessels, some fishing boats, and what's most infuriating is that there were even sampans. As for the weaponry, it's even worse; having one or two crossbows is already quite good." "

It can't be that bad, can it?"

Nice was somewhat suspicious that His Majesty was trying to win people over.

Although Asax was small before, it still had a fleet of five small warships. The Frankish Kingdom had dozens of ports along its coast, most of which were larger than the former Asax.

"There are some fleets that are somewhat presentable. However, most of these fleets were funded by various merchant guilds. Getting them to come for an inspection might not be a problem, but getting them into battle is out of the question. I have to persuade those guilds first." "

The English must be very unhappy to see you rebuild your navy, so they've taken their anger out on me and sent a fleet to intercept my ships on the way."

Nice tried to sound pitiful.

"They definitely can't catch you. Their ships are all warships, while yours is a cheat ship built specifically for the race,"

King Louis said bluntly, then burst into laughter. The thought of British warships being unable to catch him filled him with immense satisfaction.

"However, there's some bad news,"

Helvinson said coldly from the side, "The British have also begun to reorganize their navy."

"The British have also begun to reorganize their navy."

"The British reorganizing their navy shows they're starting to worry, and it also shows we've hit their weakness."

Another young man spoke up for Nice.

This man was very eloquent; he helped Nice, and in doing so, he also included King Louis, and incidentally, himself.

Everyone likes to hear good things, and King Louis was immediately delighted. Although he wasn't like his father and had little interest in grand achievements, he was still very happy to be able to surpass his father.

"I will reward you. Regardless of whether your ship wins the championship, I will entrust the task of building warships to you."

King Louis appeared exceptionally generous.

However, he wasn't entirely doing this to repay Nice. Before making this decision, he sent people to inquire about the situation at various port shipyards.

Among all the shipyards, the Asax shipyard was definitely among the top in terms of the number of ships and workers, and its shipbuilding speed was even the fastest. The only drawback was the limited range of ship types; this shipyard could only build one type of ship.

Fortunately, all he needed were warships, and that type of ship perfectly met his requirements.

More importantly, those ships were cheap, and Asakus was best known for its ability to extend credit.

Becoming king was exciting, but it also had its painful aspects; his greatest pain now was his lack of money. His father had given him a glorious Frankish kingdom, but he had also left him a mess.

"I know the Rose Cross Trading Company is very wealthy. Could the funds for building the warships be extended on credit?"

King Louis asked directly. He now considered Nice a friend, so he was frank.

Nice was taken aback, but fortunately, he had heard about the Frankish Kingdom's empty treasury.

Not lending money was impossible; he didn't want the Rose Cross to follow in the footsteps of the Knights Templar. However, he couldn't just hand over money for no reason either; that would only spoil His Majesty, and if His Majesty needed money in the future, he would definitely ask again.

"Yes, but in return, I need Lake Bal as collateral. I plan to build a port there,"

Nice quickly stated his condition.

The Bar Lagoon was considered a terrible place by most Franks; half of it was a lake, the other half a swamp, vast but uninhabitable.

However, what others saw as garbage, Nice viewed with a different light.

It was the mouth of the Rh?ne River, which flowed from the southern coast to the north of the Franks, passing through Avignon, Lean, and Langreux—cities closely connected to him.

"The Bar Lagoon?"

King Louis was somewhat surprised; he hadn't expected Nice to want this place. After a moment's thought, he finally decided: "I'll lease the Bar Lagoon to you for fifty years in exchange for five hundred small warships, each equipped with twenty-four light ballistae."

"Deal,"

Nice immediately agreed; it was definitely a good deal.

"One more thing, the port you build must be named after me,"

King Louis said half-jokingly.

But it wasn't entirely a joke; what if the port prospered, and his name would be remembered for eternity?

Only when the moon was high in the sky did Nice finally descend from the cliff.

The town nestled at the foot of a cliff. Because it was inhabited by important figures, the entire town was enclosed by a moat. Every few meters along the moat's inner side, a huge torch was planted, and a squad of soldiers stood guard.

Even the simple wooden huts were guarded by private soldiers from various families.

Nice's house, of course, also had private soldiers—his personal guards were the goddess warriors.

The hut was lit, and shadowy figures could be vaguely seen moving inside.

Seeing Nice return, the two goddess warriors standing at the door smiled and opened it for him.

Inside, Princess Anna and Emily each occupied one side of the window, their eyes glaring at each other with hostility. In a corner, Fantine and a woman wearing a black veil sat cautiously.

Upon seeing Nice enter, Fantine immediately stood up: "I brought them… If there's nothing else, I'll take my leave."

Nice knew why Fantine was so nervous; he was well aware of his reputation.

"Give my regards to the housekeeper,"

Nice said.

Fantine agreed and hurriedly fled out the door.

The veiled woman also stood up, clearly feeling uneasy about her presence.

Before she could speak, Nice interjected, "Fantine said you helped her a lot."

"It's nothing, just a coincidence,"

the woman replied, naturally not daring to take credit.

"You're clever, and your methods are quite sophisticated,"

Nice praised.

The woman glanced furtively at Princess Anna and Emily, sensing something amiss. He was insignificant; it was strange that they would ignore the princess and speak to him first.

Monica saw a hint of doubt in Princess Anna's eyes, but when he turned to look at Emily, his unease deepened. Emily's gaze was like a cat eyeing a mouse.

"I wouldn't call myself clever, just a little bit of connections,"

Monica said, feeling he couldn't stay any longer. He even had an urge to escape.

"You're too modest. If you weren't so clever..."

Nice's expression suddenly turned chilling. "How could I have almost died at your hands?" The moment

these words left his mouth, every hair on Monica's body stood on end, and the little princess was startled.

With a sharp tearing sound, the woman's clothes were ripped in two, revealing her snow-white flesh.

Nice grabbed his arm, twisting his slender arms behind his back and binding them tightly with the torn fabric. Then he tore off a piece of cloth and stuffed it into her mouth.

Monica's body trembled; she was terrified, especially after her mouth was gagged.

He knew this wasn't to prevent her from screaming; with Nice's current power, no one dared to interfere in his affairs. It was likely just to prevent him from biting his tongue and committing suicide.

"Help him clean up,"

Nice said, turning to Emily.

Emily, a sadist, immediately skipped over upon hearing this.

Monica was almost scared to death. In the past two years, he had broadened his horizons and was no longer the village woman he used to be. He had heard from others that in the Inquisition, prisoners were cleaned up before being tortured to prevent them from defecating and urinating during the torture.

She tried to struggle, but her body was already tightly bound.

Nice, of course, wouldn't watch such a scene. He pulled Princess Anna out the door.

"What do you plan to do with him?"

the little princess asked curiously, certain that Nice wouldn't kill him.

"This woman is no simpleton, otherwise I wouldn't have fallen into her hands… Afterwards, she was able to predict the fortress wouldn't hold, risking being eaten by rats to escape alone, drifting downstream. This proves that this woman is not only intelligent but also incredibly courageous. I plan to subdue her."

Nice didn't hide his intentions.

The little princess glanced at Nice's crotch, a sly smile playing on her lips.

The two stood at the door for over an hour before it opened again. Emily's eyes were filled with excitement as she pointed to the tightly bound woman.

"I've cleaned her up; you can go now."

Nice glanced at the woman; she had been re-bound, her entire body folded up, knees and shoulders tied together, her buttocks almost touching her chin. Her lower abdomen, buttocks, breasts, and mons pubis were all coated with a layer of ointment, and her vagina and anus were covered with a thick layer of ointment.

"How many kinds did you use?"

Nice asked.

"I used them all,"

Emily said with a light laugh.

The little princess shook her head. Of course, she knew that these ointments were definitely aphrodisiacs. If they were used separately, she could bear it, but if they were all used at once, this woman would be in serious trouble.

"Give me those needles,"

Nice ordered.

Emily excitedly handed over a sewing kit filled with fine steel needles, all the smallest embroidery needles, all threaded with silk.

Nice picked up a needle and gently stroked Monica's body, sometimes brushing past her small nipples, sometimes parting her delicate petals, sometimes circling around her anus.

Finally, his fingers stopped on her clitoris.

The small fleshy bud was raised high due to the aphrodisiac, swollen to the size of a soybean.

The sharp needle pierced her flesh, and Monica's body instantly tensed. Pain contorted her face; that spot was the most sensitive part of a woman's body, so the pain was naturally the most intense.

Nis twisted the needle.

The face, contorted in pain, slowly relaxed, and a beautiful moan escaped Monica's nose.

She had never experienced such a wonderful feeling before; the intense pleasure made her lose all sense of direction, as if she were ascending to heaven.

Just as she was feeling the most blissful moment, a sudden, sharp pain struck her again.

One needle after another pierced her flesh, yet not a drop of blood was seen—this was the mark of Nis's skill.

This technique was recorded at the end of the booklet, a total of twenty-four moves, corresponding to the twelve levels of purgatory and the twelve levels of hell. Only halfway through the needle insertion

, the woman let out a gurgling sound.

"She seems to have something to say, is she begging for mercy?"

Princess Anna asked from the side. She had been watching from the sidelines since the beginning, not as engrossed as Emily, but she hadn't pleaded for the woman either; this little princess was no good girl.

"She just wants to confess. She wants to tell us who hid her, who wants to harm us,"

Emily said dismissively.

"Do you want to know?"

Anna asked.

"Just a minor character."

Nice's hands didn't stop; he pushed another needle into that delicate vulva.

"Apocalypse" had already laid out the whole story; there was no need for a confession.

"This is just the beginning,"

Nice whispered in Monica's ear, stroking the protruding needle tip.

Emily, obediently kneeling beside him, unzipped Nice's pants and pulled out his enormous member.

This weapon forced its way into Monica's vagina.

Normally, this wouldn't be a problem, but now the woman's genitals were riddled with needles, all deeply embedded in her flesh. Even the slightest movement would cause excruciating pain, let alone the intrusion of such a thick object.

Monica's body convulsed violently, her eyes rolled upwards, her face contorted in agony.

Even Anna, standing nearby, seemed to feel the indescribable pain. She took two steps back, but curiosity compelled her to peer inside.

The stronger the pain, the more intense the stimulation; Monica's consciousness was completely consumed by these two sensations.

Nice's hands were pressed tightly against Monica's temples. Had he not protected her consciousness, that attack, even if it didn't kill her, would have driven her to madness.

Nice stopped moving; he needed to allow the woman time to adjust, to catch her breath, so she could endure it longer.

A full quarter of an hour passed before Monica regained consciousness. Her face was deathly pale, her body trembling uncontrollably, and her lower body convulsing uncontrollably.

"This set of punishments has twenty-four variations in total. You've only experienced two. Take your time; I'll let you experience them all,"

Nice whispered in the woman's ear.

Hearing this, Monica nearly fainted; everything went black before her eyes.

She could already see her future.

Chapter Three ◆ The Naval Race

Various flags fluttered in the wind on the beach, beneath which throngs of people gathered. The naval race attracted not only people from nearby territories but also many residents of Beni. Most were just there to watch the spectacle, but some were genuinely interested.

A rumor was circulating throughout Frankish territory: the new king no longer intended to continue the endless war with the English, but instead would adopt a naval blockade. From now on, the only way to gain military merit was to purchase warships and go to sea.

The crowds weren't limited to the beach; the sea was just as crowded.

More than two hundred boats participated, with even more registered. Because the notice restricted the identities of participants, many fishermen dreamed of winning a prize and sailed their fishing boats to the competition.

Before the competition began, all these fishing boats, merchant ships, and barges were eliminated.

However, patrolling the sea at this moment were not only the participating vessels, but also many boats responsible for maintaining order. Relatively speaking, these boats appeared somewhat shabby; these were the Frankish navy that had embarrassed King Louis.

Five or six kilometers from the shore, every few hundred meters, a huge buoy floated, each bearing a conspicuous flag.

These buoys mark the shipping lane. This lane runs close to the coast, ensuring clear visibility for those on the beach.

The North Sea in March is known for its strong winds and high waves; even near the shore, the waves are far greater than in the southern waters, causing the participating ships to rise and fall with the waves.

Nice stood on the swaying bow, observing the other participating vessels.

Even after rigorous selection, eliminating those unsuitable as warships, the remaining ships were still a diverse mix, with barbarian warships being the most numerous, though most were imitations.

The barbarians had dominated the seas for four centuries, and their pirates remained the most dangerous presence at sea. Barbarian warships certainly had their unique features; when Nice wanted to develop a new ship type, Soul had also drawn inspiration from barbarian warships.

However, a shared origin doesn't mean identical ships are created. Although some shared characteristics indicated that these ships possessed a common lineage, their differences were still significant.

The barbarian warships were long and thin, with high, upturned prows. Some of these replicas appeared thicker and heavier, some had their high-upturned prows removed, and some had rounded bows and pointed sterns. The interiors were also quite different. Most of these replicas had added decks, some semi-open, some closed.

"What's that?"

Nice asked, pointing to a ship. This ship had two shield-like structures hanging on its sides, inserted into the water.

Nice was asking about Sikos.

Sikos, a member of the Hidden Bag Academy and now the head of a Bag Academy, had traveled a long way at Nice's summons.

"That's Ruoton's fast ship. The further north you go, the bigger the waves get. Adding these two planks helps reduce the rocking,"

Sikos, a seasoned seaman, immediately explained.

"That doesn't seem difficult. Can we add them?"

Nice was good at learning from others' strengths.

He did indeed have this need. Previously, his fleet only traveled the southern seas, the route between the Holy Land and the Papal States, a calm sea. From now on, his ships would frequently travel in and out of the North Sea, where the winds and waves were much greater.

"No problem,"

Sikos gave a positive answer.

"That ship looks rather strange..."

Nice pointed to another ship.

He had initially wanted to learn from various sources, but it turned out he was completely inexperienced in navigation, and what he created naturally couldn't withstand testing. Three years later, he was no longer the same as before, so this time he had some ideas.

Time passed slowly, and Nice kept asking questions. He didn't want to miss this opportunity; he couldn't possibly have spent over a decade at sea like Sikos, never seeing so many unique ships in normal times.

The sun rose higher and higher, and suddenly a horn sounded in the distance.

"Quickly, all of you back to your posts!"

Nice shouted.

Not only him, but all the other participating ships were also in a flurry of activity. Sailors who had been lounging on deck rushed into the cabins and took their seats.

At the stern, a priest stood holding onto the cat railing.

This priest had been sent by the king to sail with the ship and ensure no one could cheat.

It wasn't that King Louis didn't trust Nice; every ship had this arrangement.

It had been almost a year since Clement V's assassination, and after the New Year, the church would be able to sense God's presence to some extent, and the priests' abilities would gradually recover.

The priests' greatest strength was their perception; they were exceptionally sensitive to various energy fluctuations, making them very suitable for this kind of surveillance work.

On deck, a dozen or so sailors were divided into four groups, pushing the winch.

As the winch turned, the sails slowly unfurled.

It wasn't a tailwind, but they could still get some wind support.

His ship's advantage over the others lay in its four masts.

Large warships had three masts, and small warships generally had only one, or at most two; this ship had more than twice as many.

However, many others did the same. Nice had just seen several ships even more extravagant than his, one of which had seven sails, so that from a distance only the sails were visible, not the hull.

Another long blast of the horn sounded.

This was the signal to start the race.

"Weigh anchor!"

Nice shouted.

A sailor was already standing on the gunwale, holding a short-handled knife, and slashed at the mooring rope.

This was the fastest way to weigh anchor.

The four sails were already billowing in the wind, and as soon as the anchor was released, the ship surged forward.

The sailors below deck rowed frantically. This was the initial stage; only by getting to the front could they avoid being blocked, otherwise they would be jostled with the other ships and unable to go fast.

Nice's ship was fast enough, but he wasn't the only one. In a short while, more than a dozen ships had surged ahead, separating from the rest of the group.

Nice paced back and forth on the deck, looking ahead and behind, observing these dozen or so ships—these were the opponents he needed to watch out for.

The advantages of their ship types were now obvious. All of these dozen or so ships were longboats, each with more than one sail, and all had pointed prows.

The sea seemed somewhat crowded for over two hundred ships, but quite spacious for these dozen or so. So, as if by unspoken agreement, they maintained a distance of one or two hundred meters from each other.

Atop the high tower at the top of the cliff, King Louis watched the sea. He was the kind of person who only watched the spectacle; frankly, he had no interest in which ship would win. However, those around him were unusually focused on the sea.

One of the king's confidants, named Beryl, held a registration form in one hand, while simultaneously explaining the situation as he watched the sea.

"The seventeen ships at the very front are number fifteen, the Salzson; number twenty-two, Battenfort; number twenty-seven, the Fisherman; number thirty-three, Rhodes…

Of the seventeen ships, eleven are of mortise and tenon construction, four are of ribbed construction, and two are of skeletal construction…

Of the eleven mortise and tenon ships, six are made of oak, three are oak and pine, and two are entirely pine. Of the four ribbed construction ships, one is made of oak, one of oak and pine, one of pine, and the last one is—pine and paulownia."

Berried couldn't help but laugh as he said this.

Everyone in the room knew whose ship it was.

Warships weren't just about sailing ability; defensive capabilities were also crucial. Using oak was acceptable, using pine was cheating, and using paulownia was practically dishonest.

"His ship doesn't seem to be the fastest,"

King Louis said, his eyes fixed on the Nice ship the entire time.

Nice's ship was easily recognizable. Compared to the others, it was remarkably clean, painted from bow to stern, even the masts, with a glossy white paint that had been polished and waxed. The railings were gilded, giving it an exceptionally opulent appearance without being ostentatious.

It was a subtle opulence, just like his usual style.

Among so many ships, this one stood out like a nobleman among commoners.

"This ship hasn't started moving yet; it can use the wind for now. He clearly wants the sailors to conserve their energy. The real challenge will likely come on the return voyage. As long as the wind direction doesn't change, the return voyage will rely solely on oars,"

another young man explained in a low voice.

This young man hadn't been among King Louis's confidants before; he had just joined. He was more familiar with navigation.

Since accepting Nice's advice, King Louis needed a trustworthy and knowledgeable navigator, hence this young man.

"If you had to choose, would you choose the ship he built?"

King Louis asked.

"Of course."

The young man was clever; he knew it was best not to speak ill of others behind their backs. Besides, Nice posed no threat to him, as Nice's foundation wasn't there, and there wouldn't be much conflict of interest with them.

"Let me explain,"

King Louis wasn't easily fooled.

Fortunately, the young man had already prepared his explanation: "Boats that sail with wind and those that use oars are roughly the same in performance. I guarantee that the seventeen ships will arrive at their destination in at most an hour's difference. Since their performance is similar, the speed and cost of construction become crucial."

King Louis nodded silently; this was also what he was concerned about.

"What I'm worried about is that the English will do the same thing; those ships aren't difficult to build,"

Helvinson interjected.

"I don't think so,"

the newly joined young man retorted to Helvinson. "The English prefer lap joints. England is an island nation with a limited number of trees. Lap joints are more difficult to build, but they save materials. Rib-plate structures are easier to build, but they require two layers of planks, making them inferior to lap joints in terms of materials."

"Why not just use thinner planks?"

Helvinson retorted, unwilling to be outshone by the newcomer.

"Sawing planks also causes waste, and the planks need to be trimmed, which increases the waste even more."

The newcomer countered sharply, refusing to back down.

King Louis ignored his subordinates' arguments, believing that such quarrels were only beneficial.

"If the people on the other island want to learn, let them learn. Do you think I'm really afraid of them?"

His Majesty was now brimming with confidence.

In recent days, he had been analyzing the gains and losses of previous wars between the two nations, and his conclusion was that on the main battlefield, the Frankish army could defeat the English army. The reason they hadn't achieved the desired results was entirely because the English would retreat by sea when the situation turned unfavorable.

Ever since inspecting the Frankish navy and witnessing those dilapidated warships, he became increasingly convinced that the problem lay precisely there.

If the navy's strength were increased, those despicable creatures could definitely be driven back to the island.

The young emperor seemed to see Sikor beckoning to him.

The sun gradually shifted from east to west.

The ships at sea had formed a long line; some that had fallen behind had simply dropped out of the race, so the sea was no longer as crowded as it had been at the beginning.

The leading ships had also widened their lead; Nice's ship was third, forty or fifty meters behind the ship in front, and another ship about a hundred meters ahead.

However, Nice's gaze wasn't on the two ships ahead, but rather on a ship slowly catching up behind him.

This ship had two large planks stuck into the sea on either side of its hull, looking rather strange; he had asked Sikor about it before the race started.

In Nice's memory, this ship hadn't started fast, and didn't seem to have any advantage in the first half of the journey, but after passing the turning point, it began to accelerate.

The ship changed course, and while all the other ships lowered their sails because the wind direction had changed, this ship still kept its sails hoisted. Its sails were unlike anything else; even Sikos had never seen them before and couldn't explain why.

"If we were to replicate this, it shouldn't be too difficult, right?"

Nice looked at the strange sail, some ideas forming in his mind.

"We'll have to try. Sails are incredibly strenuous; they may look simple, but they're not so easy to make."

Sikos was a cautious man; matters of navigation concerned the lives of everyone on board, and he wouldn't dare speak carelessly.

"Don't go back to Shamaen for now; we need you more here."

Nice wasn't afraid Sikos would refuse; his heart was always at sea. "No problem!" Sikos readily agreed; he was genuinely interested in this kind of sail he had never seen before.

"After the race, try to get to know the people on that ship; try to win them over."

Nice was now wealthy and increasingly adept at bribery.

"I can try to bribe one or two sailors to tell us about the structure and characteristics of this kind of sail. It shouldn't be too difficult,"

said Sikos, who was very familiar with this kind of thing.

"However, this kind of sail is only useful against the wind; it's not very effective with the wind."

Nice had been tempted earlier, but now that he heard Sikos say he could get his hands on the secret of this sail, he began to hesitate again.

"It's alright. Real warships don't have that many masts; at most, two, one in front and one behind. We can keep the original sail in front and change the one in the back to this kind. This way, the ship won't be too slow with the wind, and we can take advantage of the wind when it's against the wind."

Sikos instantly resolved Nice's concerns.

Although this approach seemed somewhat moderate, warships were designed to be balanced in all aspects; it's better to have no weaknesses than to have strengths.

Naval warfare is not the same as land warfare; the speed of warships is roughly the same, unlike the significant difference between infantry and cavalry. Moreover, warships are equipped with ballistae and soldiers responsible for boarding maneuvers, capable of both ranged and close-quarters combat, unlike land warfare where roles are clearly defined—spearmen are spearmen, archers are archers.

Therefore, a well-rounded warship is a good warship. With

his mood improving, Niston suddenly perked up and turned to shout, "Everyone, give it your all! If we win, I'll give each of you a gold coin!"

His words were met with cheers from the cabin.

A gold coin was equivalent to a year's income for these rowing sailors, and for such a reward, they were willing to give it their all.

The old sailor in charge of shouting the slogans immediately quickened his pace, and the sailors strained their oars.

The two boats ahead were clearly affected as well, their oars also increasing in speed, and white waves rolled and splashed everywhere on the sea.

The three boats chased each other, all speeding up, and the differences between them immediately became apparent.

Nice's boat gradually closed the distance with the boat in front, but always maintained a distance of fifty or sixty meters from the leading boat.

"Can you tell what kind of wood that boat is made of?"

Nice asked Sikos beside him. He had painted his boat white so that not too many people would notice that the hull was made of paulownia wood.

The boat in front, however, only had a coat of varnish.

"That's pine, it's definitely heavier than our boat,"

Sikos said with certainty.

Just then, a large wave crashed in, and all the boats rocked.

A bright light shone on one side of the first boat's hull.

Nice, with his sharp eyes, immediately recognized it as the reflection of metal.

"Is the hull of that ship made of metal?"

he muttered to himself. To be honest, he had never heard of anyone building ships with metal.

Sikos, an expert in this field, understood immediately.

"It's not made of metal; it's probably just a thin metal plate. That reduces drag."

Suddenly, he slapped his forehead and exclaimed, "Something's strange! The ship is heavier after the metal plate is nailed on, but the draft isn't deep."

"Perhaps all the wood inside is hollowed out,"

Niss said calmly.

He and the Templars had previously worked together to forge those troll armors, and to minimize weight, many parts had been hollowed out. So, this possibility immediately flashed through his mind.

Sikos looked at the ship ahead, then at Niss beside him, and shook his head helplessly. He had never seen anyone like this, willing to go to any lengths for profit.

The sea was bathed in the orange glow of the setting sun. On the same beach, the onlookers had gathered again, but they were no longer as excited as they had been at the start of the competition.

At this moment, only two ships remained on the sea, locked in a fierce chase, leaving the others far behind.

The two ships were almost side-by-side, their bows slightly aft, with one ship leading the other by two or three meters.

On deck, several men glared at each other.

At this close range, Nice could clearly see that the inside of the other ship's hull was riddled with holes the size of walnuts, resembling a beehive.

That ship also had a ram, but it was clearly not a true ram, as its tip was too sharp; if used to strike an enemy ship, it would most likely break. This ram, like the tip of a sword, easily parted the water ahead, leaving very little spray.

The finish line was just ahead.

The men on the opposite ship began to dance with joy.

Nice gave a cold smile and waved his hand.

Two sailors responsible for controlling the sails immediately came forward, ran to the bow, and vigorously turned a small winch.

As the winch turned, a piece of wood, about the thickness of a bowl, stretched out, growing longer and longer until it was like a spear thrust forward.

Sikos couldn't bear to watch any longer; he covered his face and fled to the bottom of the cabin.

The people on the opposite ship didn't understand at first, but when they did, they were furious, jumping up and down and cursing.

At the stern of both ships, the two priests monitoring the entire process were completely dumbfounded. After a moment, they looked at each other, shook their heads, and shrugged helplessly.

To be honest, this time they had witnessed what shamelessness truly meant.

The openwork planks against the paulownia wood planks—the ship owners on both sides were quite a pair, but this ship owner had prepared a spear beforehand, so the more shameless one became the winner.

The two ships crossed the finish line almost side-by-side, with the opposite ship leading by three meters. In addition, the underwater ram was also two meters long.

Unfortunately, the spear on the bow of Nice's ship was a full twelve meters long.

"I won!"

Nice laughed heartily, but his smile vanished in an instant. He waved to the opposite side, "This is the toughest battle I've ever fought. You are a group of respectable opponents."

"Viscount Deltwa, I have long heard of your esteemed name. You are the wisest and most shameless person I have ever met."

A young man, no more than twenty-five or twenty-six years old, waved to Nice from the opposite ship.

"Likewise, likewise. At least I didn't dig holes in the deck."

Nice said nonchalantly, his skin thickened by years of experience.

"Could you scrape off some paint so I can see? I believe there's something fishy going on. Your ship's draft is too shallow."

The man on the opposite ship retorted sharply.

"Methods don't matter, sharpness is key."

Nice excused himself.

"That's the sentence I admire most."

The man on the opposite ship gestured in his direction, a sign of respect, but also a gesture that proved the other party's status was no lower than his.

"The race is over, we should go home,"

the man ordered, turning to his men.

His command was immediately obeyed, and the ship slowly turned and headed out to sea.

"No matter what, you're the runner-up,"

Nice shouted.

"I'm not interested in runner-up. To me, runner-up is a disgrace, proof of defeat,"

the man said, bowing slightly to Nice.

Watching the ship opposite him gradually disappear into the distance, Nice muttered to himself, "A very interesting fellow, but..."

He suddenly stopped, not uttering his thoughts aloud.

"Turn the rudder and head towards the shore,"

Nice ordered, turning back.

His command was immediately carried out, and the ship slowly turned and moved towards the shore. A group of people had already gathered there, and King Louis, surrounded by nobles, stood on the dock.

As soon as Nice's ship docked, a gangplank was immediately placed on the side of the ship. Nice stepped off the gangplank, while the others, naturally, did not have this privilege and remained on the ship.

"I'm delighted you won the championship, and I'm proud of your shamelessness."

King Louis's words were not a joke; he was genuinely overjoyed.

"Could you tell me who the owner of that ship is?"

Nice was very perceptive. He'd sensed something was amiss when the ship stormed off, and seeing the King's smug expression now only confirmed it.

"If my men aren't mistaken, that fellow is Roger Mortimer, Edward's confidant,"

King Louis said, his expression clearly unpleasant.

Nice was startled. He'd been guessing the man was English, and he was right.

Roger Mortimer was more than just a confidant of the King of England; rumors circulated that the King was planning to recommend him as Governor of Ireland.

Nice hadn't thought much of Frank in the first place, and now, knowing such a shameless man existed in the opposing camp, he was even less convinced Frank could win.

If he were truly willing to pledge allegiance to King Louis, perhaps there was a slight chance of victory, but he knew King Louis's days were numbered.

Once the King died, Frank would be plunged into turmoil, and when the royal line died out, Frank's situation would likely be even worse.

Nice and His Majesty had a good relationship, but not to the point of defying fate for him. Even if he wanted to, he didn't have the ability.

"Since you know the British have ill intentions, why didn't you stop them from participating?"

Nice asked疑惑地问道.

King Louis didn't care to reveal the reason behind it. This matter couldn't be known to anyone before the competition, but now there were fewer restrictions.

"I made a bet with some people, betting on who would win between you and that guy. If you win, I will have their support; otherwise, they will support that soul-loving guy on the island."

King Louis looked helpless.

Nice pondered.

At this moment, the Frankish power could be said to be at its peak, even the Papacy was under their feet, and the Holy Empire was in disarray. The title of Emperor had been vacant for a long time. There were very few forces that could make such a bet with His Majesty.

"Is it the Symbol Society?"

Nice asked in a low voice. He just wanted to test him, but to his surprise, King Louis remained silent.

Silence had two possibilities: either he acquiesced, or he didn't want to say.

Nice's senses were exceptionally sharp; he could sense the anger hidden beneath King Louis's calm exterior.

He immediately understood that His Majesty's silence was a tacit agreement.

"Isn't the Symbols under your control? Why do they dare to be so disrespectful to you?"

Nice seized the opportunity to ignite the flames.

King Louis gave a bitter smile.

Before ascending the Frankish throne, he had always believed that the Frankish king possessed unparalleled power. However, in recent days, he had experienced many frustrating situations.

Despite everyone's outward respect, only his direct subordinates truly obeyed him. The lords' power was deeply entrenched, and they outwardly complied with his orders but inwardly defied them. Even worse, the dukes formed their own factions, like independent kingdoms.

Even the Papacy, which he had always thought was trampled underfoot by the royal family, wasn't so subservient. Cardinal Duez currently needed his support, which was why he was so humble. Once he ascended the papacy, he certainly wouldn't be content to remain subservient like his predecessor.

But he had no other suitable choice but to support Cardinal Duez.

The Symbolic Order, in particular, infuriated him.

This power had grown so vast that even the Church feared them, and they were impossible to eradicate completely by operating in the shadows. What was even more terrifying was their ubiquitous influence; every pope had their people, and even he, his father, and his ancestors were members of the Symbolic Order.

He had no idea whether the others around him were connected to the Symbolic Order.

He also didn't know if he would be assassinated if he showed any dissatisfaction.

Outside the window, the sea wind howled, and the flags on the cliff fluttered wildly.

Inside the room, Nice and King Louis sat facing each other, both appearing somewhat drunk.

"I know you're investigating your father's death,"

King Louis said, reeking of alcohol.

Nice glanced at his king; he wasn't surprised. Monica had found out everything he'd asked Fantine to investigate; that woman had told her master. At this point, there were no secrets left to keep.

"I can tell you the truth."

King Louis wasn't speaking without reason. Because Nice was investigating his father's death, he was certain that Nice and the Mark had nothing to do with each other; in fact, they might even be enemies.

"I've already figured some things out. I know the key is a man named Heinz Koster,"

Nice said preemptively.

"You're quite capable, managing to find out so much."

King Louis picked up the wine bottle and poured two more glasses, pushing one towards Nice before sighing softly, "How much do you know about Heinz Koster?"

Nice didn't refuse the king's offer. He took the glass, thought for a moment, and then said, "I know he's a scholar, a poet, and that his ideas are quite radical."

King Louis nodded. "You're right, but there are some things you'd never guess. His relationship with my father is like your relationship with me now."

Nice was shocked. Suddenly, he felt it was an irony; his father had been the late king's advisor, and he himself had become the new king's advisor.

Besides being surprised, Nice was also drenched in a cold sweat. He wondered if others would deduce his identity from this coincidence.

In a flash, many things he couldn't understand before became clear.

Since his father was the late king's advisor, he must have been a frequent visitor to that palace, just like him now. This explained the box of secret letters.

"Where is Heinz Koster now?"

Nice asked deliberately, as a test.

To Nice's surprise, King Louis looked at him suspiciously and said, "Shouldn't you be the one to ask me?"

"Ask me?"

Nice could only feign ignorance, his heart sinking.

"Of course you should be the one to ask. Before your father died, you didn't show any talent, but after the funeral, you completely changed. Is this really God's arrangement?"

King Louis looked unconvinced. As a member of the Symbolic Society, he certainly didn't have much respect for God.

"That wasn't Heinz Koster, but someone else."

Sweat beaded on Nice's forehead.

Nice didn't know how to explain, but thankfully King Louis's next words relieved him.

"It's Cardinal Alma, isn't it?"

"Why would you think that?"

Nice was utterly astonished; he had no idea how this misunderstanding had arisen.

"It's quite normal. Heinz Koster became my father's confidant through the recommendation of Clement V. His Holiness the Pope isn't a member of the Order of the Symbols, but he has close ties with them."

A secret no one had ever known before was revealed by King Louis.

Nice was completely stunned; his mind went blank.

If the previous revelation was ironic, this news was the epitome of irony.

"You're not telling me that this man suggested attacking the Knights Templar, are you?"

Nice suddenly had this ridiculous thought.

"You guessed right."

King Louis didn't seem to find anything amiss.

Overwhelmed by shock, Nice was utterly numb. He had saved Old Man Simon, and Old Man Simon had in turn saved him, leading to everything that was now. The entanglement between him and the Knights Templar was simply inextricably linked. He never imagined that after all this, he would discover that his own father was the mastermind behind the persecution of the Knights Templar.

"Cardinal Emmar knows Heinz Koster's whereabouts?"

Nice asked, bewildered.

"That's probably something only the cardinal himself could answer."

King Louis didn't know either, nor was he interested in the answer, as it had nothing to do with him.

"Could you tell me what exactly happened at the Symbol Society?"

Nice pressed. The previous question was merely a smokescreen; now, the situation was far more serious, and he genuinely wanted the answer.

"I'm not entirely sure either. Everyone who knew is probably already gone to meet God."

King Louis pointed to the sky. "The only thing I know is that Heinz Koster seems to have made a significant discovery. He must have received funding from my father and Clement V for some adventure. My father mentioned inadvertently that Heinz Koster caused him to lose his most trusted knightly guard." "

Were the late king's knightly guards really reduced in number?"

Nice continued, needing to confirm this.

"It is true. Ten years ago, for some unknown reason, six Grand Knights and four Grand Mages suddenly disappeared. Clement V also lost twelve Grand Knights, ten Holy Cup Knights, six Holy Light Mages, four Cardinals, and an entire squad of Judges."

King Louis pursed his lips, his heart filled with curiosity about what had happened.

He couldn't imagine what kind of operation would require so many super-powerful individuals.

He also couldn't fathom what kind of danger could have wiped out such a force.

"Heinz Koster shouldn't be dead, right?"

Nice asked knowingly, of course, he knew the answer best.

"I don't know. The late King was looking for him, as was Clement V. Later, others seemed to have heard rumors and questioned the late King about it. The late King was furious. My father was not one to tolerate insults. He didn't even respect the Papacy, and he dared to attack the Knights Templar. Anyone who angered him would never have a good end."

King Louis sneered.

Nice absolutely believed His Majesty's words; it was common knowledge that no one was more insane than Philip IV. He was also certain that Philip IV's actions against the higher-ups of the Symbol Society were most likely because the matter was too important, and Philip IV and Clement V wouldn't allow anyone else to interfere, so they decided to strike first. As soon as

this thought arose, another immediately jumped to mind.

Could his father have been assassinated by those two emperors to extinguish all clues?

This possibility was high, but unfortunately, Nice couldn't confirm it.

Just as King Louis had said, all those who knew were already gone.

Nice's mind was in turmoil. His father's cause of death was finally starting to become clearer, but it raised even more questions.

Upon returning to his lodgings, Nice borrowed the "Book of Revelation" from Emily and arranged for two goddess warriors to guard the door. He entered the room and immediately put on the mask.

In an instant, he appeared in the Black Swamp.

He had come here to buy information.

Nice silently conjured up the image of the rabbit in his mind.

The next instant, he spotted the rabbit; it was still crouching in the frozen hall.

Almost instantly, the rabbit sensed Nex was looking for it. Its figure flickered slightly, vanished from its original position, and reappeared before Nex the next moment.

"What? Another big deal?"

the rabbit asked with a grin.

Nex wasn't surprised by the rabbit's sudden appearance. He had already guessed that this guy was one of the true core members of the Pantheon. This guy gave off a very similar vibe to Old Q, both seeming unfathomable.

"What's your relationship with the Mark Society?"

Nex asked instead of answering.

He didn't bother asking Old Q because Old Q was more like a scholar, only interested in research, while this rabbit was different; it was a broker, and a well-informed and exceptionally resourceful one at that.

The rabbit fell silent; this was a difficult question to answer.

As Nice awaited the rabbit's reply, a sudden sense of unease arose within "Apocalypse." A thought flashed through his mind: "You're also a member of the Mark Society?"

The rabbit smiled, tacitly agreeing.

Nice was momentarily at a loss. He didn't know the rabbit's rank within the Mark Society.

The relationships within the Pantheon were exceptionally complex. He himself could be considered an outer member of the Thousand Forest Tower, a member of the Serpent, and a core member of the Black Swamp. However, to be honest, he had no loyalty whatsoever to these organizations.

The Serpent was merely a place to take on missions and earn points, and the Black Swamp was just a laboratory and a library. The only thing he cared about was the group of like-minded companions there.

This person before him was a different story.

The Mark Society was a very tightly knit organization, formed from the reorganization of various religious sects and priesthoods of the former Empire. These religious sects, like the Church, had strict hierarchies, and the priesthoods were semi-military organizations with a tight hierarchy.

If Rabbit were a high-ranking member of the Mark Society, there would be no way he would side with outsiders.

As Nice was thinking this, the scene before him suddenly spun rapidly, and in the blink of an eye, the surroundings became empty.

Someone wanted to talk to him.

"I know you're investigating your father's death,"

Rabbit said, uttering words identical to King Louis's.

Nice smiled bitterly to himself; having Fantine investigate that matter was his biggest mistake, and now everyone knew.

"You seem completely unconcerned about this,"

Nice said coldly.

"Why should I care? This was done by a bunch of delusional peripheral members who think they've found a hidden clue."

The rabbit's tone was unusually disdainful.

"A clue? What clue? Is it related to Heinz Koster's adventure?"

Nice immediately perked up.

"You've actually gotten this far?"

The rabbit seemed somewhat surprised.

"Could you tell me your position in the Mark Society first?"

Nice asked. He didn't think it was presumptuous, since he hadn't inquired about Gu Fa's position.

Sure enough, after hesitating for a while, Rabbit said, "I'm not really a big shot. I'm just a spy chief. Speaking of which, I have to thank Heinz Koster. My boss got to his current position because his predecessor got involved in that incident and lost his life. So a bunch of positions became vacant, and I took the opportunity to grab one. Otherwise, I don't know when I would have made it."

Rabbit's words were somewhat vague, but Nice could roughly guess that this guy was probably the regional head of intelligence for the Mark Society.

This position wasn't very high, but it wasn't low either, roughly equivalent to a division commander in the Knights Templar.

"You seem to know who killed my father?"

Nice stopped beating around the bush. Rather than racking his brains without any clues, he might as well make a deal with the insider.

"Yes, I can tell you the identities of those guys. You can go and take revenge on them."

Rabbit dared to make such a guarantee because he had the approval of his superiors.

"You can't give me benefits for nothing. I'll definitely have to pay some price. Tell me first."

Nice wasn't in a hurry to make a decision.

"You probably don't know what happened back then, do you?"

Rabbit was absolutely certain that if Nice knew the details, she wouldn't be so foolish as to ask such a question.

"I am indeed very interested in what exactly happened back then that made the two emperors willing to pay such a huge price? And what caused the fall of so many super-level powerhouses?"

Nice was looking forward to Rabbit giving him an answer.

"This story begins with the Knights Templar. You probably already know that Heinz Koster was the root of their downfall. All the treasures the Templars brought from the Holy Land fell into the hands of Philip IV. Philip IV was interested in money and weaponry, and among those treasures were many antiques and works of art, which he entrusted to Heinz Koster." "

Heinz Koster was a naturalist and an expert in antique appraisal. He also orchestrated the operation against the Knights Templar, making him the most suitable person to handle these items." "

Unexpectedly, he discovered a secret among those antiques and works of art, a secret known only to him, Philip IV, and Clement V." "

Some speculated that those antiques might contain the location of Solomon's treasure. Because shortly afterward, Clement V personally summoned Grand Master Moller of the Knights Templar and imprisoned him in isolation. Before this, Moller had been imprisoned with the other Knights Templar."

"The physician in the Inquisition was one of ours. She said that while Moller was unconscious, he kept repeating words like 'Holy Land, Solomon, Treasure.'"

"Shortly after that physician spread the word, he died of food poisoning. He wasn't the only one who died; everyone who had contact with Moller during that period, from the interrogator to the executioner, died of food poisoning."

"Three months later, Heinz Koster left Benni, and many of the guards who had accompanied Philip IV and Clement V also disappeared. We suspect they went to find the treasure." "

At first, the higher-ups of the Symbolic Order didn't pay much attention, but not long after, members of the Corona inadvertently received a divine revelation: the treasure contained the secret to immortality, the gateway to godhood." "

This threw the higher-ups into chaos. Everyone began communicating with their respective deities, and ultimately most received a kind of divine revelation."

"Wealth is far more than just a temptation to sin, but the secret of immortality and godhood is irresistible. No one can resist such temptation."

"About three months passed, and Philip IV and Clement V suddenly became frustrated. The operation had clearly failed, and Heinz Koster hadn't returned." "

The higher-ups of the Symbolist Society decided to pressure the two emperors. Their thinking was simple: the failure meant the treasure was definitely not easy to obtain, so they might as well reveal the secret and then pool everyone's resources to try again." "

Philip IV initially appeared cooperative; he was willing to reveal the secret, but he demanded to be the leader, with others only providing assistance and sharing a portion of the spoils."

"Secretly, this emperor used the secret as bait to incite infighting among the various factions of the Symbolist Society. The Symbolist Society wasn't very united to begin with; the conservatives and radicals had been fighting fiercely before. His provocation made them decide to settle things first. That's how the person previously in charge of concealing the secret was eliminated."

"But the victors didn't fare any better. Philip IV announced he would send another expedition, and they sent their own men. Unaware of the trap, they actually sent a large number of their cronies, only to be wiped out just like the Templars. These men were all labeled as outlying members of the Templar Order and then killed. I'm sure you've heard their names: Aldwin, Demiro, Buster, Helms…"

Rabbit rattled off more than a dozen names.

Nice had indeed heard of some of them; they were all remnants of the Templar Order who had been burned at the stake by the Church.

Having close ties with the Templars, he knew these men had nothing to do with the Order. When old Simon mentioned this, he didn't understand the reason either, only assuming it was some cardinal using the opportunity to eliminate dissidents.

"Now that I've told you about your situation back then, let's talk about a deal!"

Rabbit wasn't revealing so much information for no reason; he had his own purpose.

"You don't think I know the whereabouts of that treasure, do you?"

This was Nice's biggest worry.

"Of course not. Heinz Koster is probably eighty percent dead. Even if he were alive, he'd definitely be hiding in some unknown corner,"

Rabbit said.

"King Louis believes that Heinz Koster was the one who devised the plan for me, which is why I have achieved what I have today,"

Nice said with a wry smile, though he was also testing the waters.

"That guy probably doesn't even know about the treasure."

The rabbit was unconvinced. "He knows absolutely nothing about Heinz Kooster. Undeniably, Heinz Kooster was incredibly talented; he was one of the most knowledgeable people in the world, proficient in many things, and a thinker. He was the first to propose ideas like monarchical centralization, city autonomy, and independent judiciary. However, Heinz Kooster wasn't good at strategy. His mind was active, his ideas radical, but he lacked rigor and thoroughness. He was good at expressing his thoughts, but not at making plans."

Nice secretly breathed a sigh of relief. He was certain this was a deliberate illusion created by his father.

To be honest, he had never seen anyone as adept at disguising themselves and setting up deceptions as his father.

Even a chance disaster in his youth had been used by his father to create another hidden identity. Could there be a more ingenious scheme?

When his father appeared as Henry Conseil, he was always a gentle, quiet, and kind-hearted man, giving the impression of being somewhat calculating, good at business, but cautious and lacking ambition.

When he appeared as Heinz Koster, he was exceptionally talented, knowledgeable, and full of passion and enthusiasm, but also extreme and even somewhat reckless.

No one could have imagined that these two people were actually the same person.

"Now, let's begin the transaction."

Nice already knew what he wanted to know; he didn't really care who the murderer was, but he had to pretend to be very concerned.

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