Chapter 565: New and Old Systems

According to the agreement made at the noble assembly two years prior, once the capital of the Trisia Kingdom had fallen, the question of succession to the throne of the Auduin Kingdom could then be discussed—and that time had now come.

Thus, when Count Iben raised the matter, all eyes turned toward it.

No one would dare ignore Ronin’s opinion.

Leaving aside his own strength and that of his vassals, the Starlight Kingdom already encompassed nearly three-fifths of the Orland Continent.

Though it had been previously agreed that lands conquered would be temporarily administered by their conquerors, with final distribution decided only after the king of Auduin was established, no one dared protest as Ronin absorbed Dragonspire City and most of Trisia’s territory into the Starlight Kingdom.

Ronin did not answer immediately, but murmurs soon filled the hall.

“By our earlier pact,” one voice declared, “the throne shall go to he who demonstrates the greatest merit in battle, prestige, and ability. By these measures, Emperor Ronin stands unmatched. It would therefore be fitting for Her Royal Highness Princess Blanche, his consort, to ascend as Queen of the Auduin Kingdom.”

The speaker was a noble who had fought beside Ronin these past two years. In truth, many such nobles had already made up their minds—if possible, they wished to join the Starlight Kingdom.

They had witnessed firsthand the prosperity of Wubei and Wushan territories. Some minor barons who joined in building railways, infrastructure, and what was called “steam-powered technology” were thriving beyond imagination.

The sooner one aligned with Ronin, the greater the chance to ride the wave of fortune.

And most other nobles shared this sentiment.

Iben’s eastern front had faced the Blackthorn Duchy, and ultimately advanced slower than Ronin’s main force—there was simply no comparison.

Duke Valgis was absent from the gathering, but his son, Marquis Paradru, attended the ceremony.

He smiled and voiced his approval.

“Princess Blanche is indeed worthy of the crown. Yet if so, we would have two kingdoms on Orland, ruled by a married couple…”

He chuckled. “Why not simply crown Emperor Ronin as sovereign over all Orland? Rename the Starlight Kingdom the Starlight Empire—what say you?”

“I’d support that!” someone called out.

“But we are all vassals of House Auduin! Would this not be betrayal?”

“This is no betrayal—it is legacy! Prince Roland carries half the blood of Auduin in his veins—that will never change!”

Debate surged through the hall. Nobles argued passionately; some endorsed Paradru’s proposal, while others feared it would shatter the traditions of House Auduin.

Yet Ronin remained calm. He had his own path to follow.

After hours of discussion, he took the scepter from Tom’s hand and tapped it lightly against the floor. Instantly, silence fell.

“I have heard your thoughts. Blanche has long shared her heart with me—whether or not she inherits the throne matters little to her. And to me…”

All leaned forward, eager to hear his words.

Ronin turned to the heir of the Gistana Duchy.

“I find Marquis Paradru’s suggestion quite compelling: to unite all Orland’s nobility under the banner of the Starlight Empire. Only thus can we consolidate strength and face the crises ahead.”

The New Moon Continent was now widely known. The existence of alien beings of sage-tier power, even demon gods, had been revealed—by design, orchestrated by Lulans and others.

And yes, Paradru’s proposal had been prearranged.

“I heard someone speak of ‘betrayal.’ But others spoke truly—Roland bears half the blood of Auduin. That fact remains. And here and now, I pledge: thirty years from today, I shall pass the throne to my son with Blanche.”

Ronin had shown interest before in Lulans’ idea of an “empire,” though he had never insisted on its realization. But now, having just ascended as king, and with fame rivaling even that of legendary emperors, he saw the moment ripe to declare his intent.

Lulans blinked in mild surprise—Ronin had actually spoken in favor.

He rose at once, bowed deeply, and proclaimed with solemnity: “Wushan Territory pledges allegiance to Emperor Ronin! We shall obey your every command, offering all we possess to your service!”

Though all knew Lulans and Ronin were inseparable, having him step forward first carried great weight. Others quickly followed.

Baron Dani, who had campaigned alongside them. Minister Landel of the Rites Ministry. Deputy Minister Fasrei. Albert and Luther from the Revenue Ministry. Aserno from the Personnel Ministry. Broll from the War Ministry.

These were men who had already tasted prosperity under Ronin’s rule.

Especially those from the Six Ministries—they had traveled repeatedly to Wubei, witnessing its transformation. Steam engines, railways, blast furnaces for iron smelting—these wonders convinced them a new age had dawned.

Yet many still hesitated. They feared that joining might mean losing autonomy, that Ronin would strip their power as he had done with rulers like Raidar.

Their eyes turned to Iben, who frowned slightly. Though uneasy, he voiced the question on all their minds.

“Your Majesty, I fully support your vision.”

He bowed. Then paused. “But should we join this empire… must we surrender our lands? Or do you have another arrangement in mind?”

Ronin smiled gently. “Traditional nobles owe loyalty and military service to their king. So too do nobles of the Starlight Kingdom—but there is a difference.”

He explained: “Traditional nobles sustain themselves through managing their domains. But in the Starlight Kingdom, granted lands are private property. Though you pay me a ten percent tax, I in turn provide you wages.”

Ronin gestured toward Karada. “Take Governor Karada of Shriek Island, for example. A base salary of 420 gold coins monthly as a star-level governor, plus 100 for overseeing a major city—520 total. With year-end bonuses of six months’ pay and additional benefits, annual income nears ten thousand.”

A collective gasp rippled through the hall.

A newcomer noble, holding only ten thousand mu of farmland, earning more than many viscounts—and that didn’t include farm yields or other gains? Unthinkable!

Ronin continued: “Those who favor this system may apply. I will approve. Not only will I preserve your titles, but appoint you as governors of your original territories.”

“The governor’s salary scales with city size—fifty gold monthly for cities below major status.”

Hearing this, many began calculating. Some even asked about base pay for Silver Knights, Gold Knights.

To them, noble rank remained unchanged. Power diminished, yes—but income rose significantly, and the burden of land management vanished. Perhaps this wasn’t so bad?

Yet Iben’s brow remained furrowed. His dream was to build a grand duchy of his own. Such petty gains wouldn’t sway him.

Indeed, most great nobles felt the same—their wealth dwarfed these sums.

Then Ronin spoke again.

“Of course, this is not mandatory. Nobles wary of the new system may still join the Starlight Empire. You may retain the old ways. And at any time, you may request to switch to the new.”

“As for my final requirement…”

At this, Iben and others relaxed. This compromise suited them far better.

Iben nodded approvingly. “Your Majesty’s dual-system approach is truly thoughtful! With such wisdom, I believe most nobles will eagerly join you in building an imperial golden age unlike any before!”

Ronin laughed heartily. “Thank you, Count Iben. Your contributions to the Auduin Kingdom are plain for all to see. There shall surely be a place for your duchy beneath the Empire!”

“And not only Iben—every noble here, who has fought year after year, spilled blood for Auduin, deserves reward equal to his valor!”

Ronin knew Iben’s ambition. He had sensed it during their meeting at the Golden Feather Villa.

Now, hearing this confirmation, Iben’s lips curled upward. This was the first time Ronin had spoken so clearly. With that, his last hesitation melted away.

“What is this requirement you speak of?” he asked.

Ronin stroked the gemstone atop his scepter.

Though he allowed the old order to persist, he had no intention of doing nothing.

The way these nobles governed their lands—while he was present, it mattered less. But if one day he left Orland with Raidar and others for a long absence, and these nobles grew too strong, they might obstruct royal decrees.

Roland had no cheat-like advantage. His cultivation speed could never match Ronin’s.

“You all must be somewhat familiar with my past. When Count Austen sought to secure the marquisate of Wushan for his grandson—my younger brother, Brandon—he resorted to underhanded schemes to frame me. I even survived several assassination attempts, narrowly escaping death.”

Rulans nodded. “Indeed, such things happened. Fortunately, Luo Ning had great luck and a strong fate to survive unscathed.”

The others nodded in agreement. They had all studied Luo Ning’s history; this matter was well known to them.

Yet they were curious—what did this have to do with Luo Ning’s current demands?

Luo Ning continued, “So I often wondered: if, after my grandfather and father pass, I inherit the marquisate, and Brandon also holds a claim to the lands, might my own position become more secure?”

He used this personal history merely as a prelude to introduce the policy he wished to enact.

“Therefore, I propose that upon a noble’s death, his lands should no longer pass solely to his eldest son. All sons shall share the right of inheritance!”

Luo Ning declared, “Of course, the eldest son shall receive the largest portion. As for how the rest is divided, nobles may submit their distribution plans to me during their lifetime, to be enacted upon my approval. If a noble dies unexpectedly without having submitted such a plan, the kingdom shall determine the division according to circumstances.”

This…

Every noble wore an expression of deep contemplation.

Many among them were shrewd men. Though Luo Ning’s proposal was unprecedented, a moment’s thought revealed its profound implications.

Once implemented, within just a few generations, noble estates would fragment into countless small parcels.

Even if they remained one family, could harmony last forever?

Nobles could avoid this by bearing only one son—but should that sole heir die, the entire estate might revert to the crown, left without an heir.

Those who saw clearly furrowed their brows, inwardly startled and troubled by Luo Ning’s seemingly simple yet razor-sharp demand.

They could not fathom how someone so young could devise a policy so cunning, so mature in its design.

Most crucially, out of fear for Luo Ning’s power, influence, and prestige, they dared not refuse.

Observing the murmurs and whispered debates around him, Luo Ning remained unhurried. Time was on his side.

“For those nobles who adopt this policy, the kingdom shall grant honors, elevated political status, and economic compensation.”

With these words, Luo Ning rose from his throne.

“You may discuss and consider it. This matter shall be overseen by Texas of the Ministry of Justice, with participation from the Ministry of Rites, the Ministry of Personnel, and all noble houses, to draft a legal system that meets everyone’s needs.”

Luo Ning departed the hall. Immediately, a storm of heated debate erupted behind him.

He smiled faintly. In truth, nearly all of them would agree.

Nearly all.

First, because the kingdom offered tangible political and economic compensation for compliance.

Second, because rivalries and tensions already existed among the nobles themselves; unable to resist the new order, they would inevitably seek advantage within its framework.

And third—most importantly—under the weight of pressure Luo Ning exerted, they simply lacked the strength to oppose him. (End of Chapter)