Chapter 710: Fertile Saline-Alkali Land

Chapter 710: The Fertile Saline-Alkali Land

Dawn City First Hospital.

Duke Garava lay on his sickbed, his eyes vacant as he stared at the first ray of light crossing the windowsill in the early morning. His pale face looked as if he had just recovered from a serious illness.

These past days, he had suffered from insomnia all night long. Every time he closed his eyes, he would soon be jolted awake by nightmares, only to find himself drenched in cold sweat.

He could not understand.

Why had the trump card forged for them by the Valyrians lost?

Even more baffling was how they had been defeated by a mere five hundred or so men.

“…Technology?”

A faint pang of pain throbbed in his heart. His lips trembled as they moved, and a glimmer of understanding seemed to appear in his murky pupils.

The ailments that the court physicians could not cure had found remedies here. He vaguely recalled someone mentioning something about technology and techniques.

And what was most astonishing was that here, not only nobles like him received aid—their medical resources were so abundant that they could even fit mechanical prosthetics onto those destitute paupers.

He had even heard from Niyang that they had established something called the “Refugee Home.” Survivors who had lost limbs could obtain an interest-free loan to replace them with basic mechanical prosthetics, provided they were willing to learn life skills and accept work assignments.

As Duke Garava calmed down, he felt his back soaked with cold sweat once more.

Only then did he gradually realize what kind of opponent they had been provoking.

But then again…

This failed probe was not entirely a misfortune.

At least he had found a remedy to make the Empire stronger.

Relaxing his neck and shoulders, he sank the back of his head into the pillow. Duke Garava consoled himself with this thought, feeling his mood improve slightly.

“…I must find a way to acquire some technology.”

Just as he was pondering, footsteps sounded from outside the door.

Startled, thinking someone had overheard his thoughts, cold sweat broke out on his back again. Only when he saw that the person at the door was his trusted aide, Niyang, did he relax his tense shoulders slightly.

“My lord, you’re awake?!” Niyang stood at the door, holding a stack of papers, his face beaming with surprise as he looked at Duke Garava, whose eyes were now open.

Duke Garava’s face was as dark as water as he looked at him. He was about to summon him in, but then his gaze fell on the stack of papers in Niyang’s hand, and his heart tightened.

“Take those newspapers away!”

He did not want to see that thing now.

After all, it was predictable that there would be no good news.

“This… is not a newspaper, my lord. It is a draft ceasefire agreement proposed by the Alliance,” Niyang said humbly and honestly, seeing the duke’s agitated reaction. “Shall I throw it away for you?”

The moment his words fell, Duke Garava sprang up from the bed as if he had touched an electric switch.

His spirited demeanor was nothing like that of a sick man. His bloodshot eyes seemed about to pop out of their sockets as he stretched out his hand with all his might.

“Give… it to me!”

“As you command, my lord.”

Niyang bowed respectfully and stepped forward with the draft in hand, but a flicker of barely perceptible disappointment crossed his lowered face.

What a pity.

He had done everything in his power to fan the flames, hoping to bring the tottering house of cards crashing down completely, but an unseen hand had held it steady.

If this war had been allowed to run its course to the bitter end, draining the foul blood that reeked of decay and drowning those parasites sucking the life out of the giant, his homeland might have had a chance at rebirth.

But as things stood, he could only sigh in regret at his ill fortune…

The war was over.

At least for a while.

In Golden Harbor, before the ruins of the Governor’s Mansion, the faint smell of blood lingered even after several rains had fallen.

A group of well-dressed people knelt on the ground, hands clasped in prayer, thanking the guardian spirits for protecting them from death and disaster. Meanwhile, some ragged individuals carried baskets, scavenging among the rubble and debris, tossing anything of value into their containers.

The corpses and the weapons lying beside them had long been collected by the settlement’s militia, but there were still some items worth recovering.

For instance, shell casings scattered on the ground, or bullets embedded in the walls.

These orange-yellow metals were valuable—a pound could be exchanged for a couple of beans. Some merchants near the port were buying them.

Suddenly, someone pulled a leather belt with ammunition pouches from under a pile of broken bricks. Overjoyed, he raised it above his head and waved at a guard sitting nearby.

The guard, seeing this, yawned, rose from his chair, walked over, took the belt, examined it briefly, then counted out a few banknotes and tossed them to the man.

The scavenger bowed obsequiously.

“Thank you, sir!”

The guard waved his hand, too lazy to even reply, and turned back to his seat, carrying the leather belt.

The others cast envious glances at the lucky fellow and redoubled their efforts in the ruins.

Word had it that no barges had docked at the inland port for a long time. The Emperor had ordered the closure of the downstream inland river port, and no more grain would come from the west.

Watching the rising price of beans, many had already smelled the scent of famine.

They had to make preparations in advance…

In the distance, more scavengers tried to enter, but a group of sturdy young men blocked their way.

These youths wore short shirts and carried clubs in their hands. They were lean but fierce, baring their teeth like hyenas on the grassland.

“Get lost! This is our home!”

“You cockroaches!”

“Either pay up, or go somewhere else!”

The ragged scavengers were clearly no match for these fellows. A few pulled out two Westland coins and handed them to the young men. Others, unable to pay or unwilling to part with their money, cursed and moved on.

Elsewhere, the well-dressed people who had finished their prayers rose from the ground one by one, bidding a final farewell to the land where they had lived for many years.

As they left the ruins, they nodded in thanks to the young men standing guard with clubs, grateful that, out of neighborly goodwill, they had not charged them a single coin.

And when their eyes fell on a certain young mouse-man, they were filled with nothing but reverence and gratitude.

It should have been them scavenging for scraps to survive.

If they had listened to that wolf-man villain named Vikram and demanded more from the Iron Men, they would now have nothing but a pile of broken bricks, and might even be fighting over garbage with scavengers from other districts.

Basking in those admiring gazes, Asin nodded slightly but did not show too much enthusiasm.

He could sense that behind those grateful eyes lay not true thanks, but a kind of awe they themselves might not have realized—like the awe they felt before the gods.

It was hard to be a great man, but not hard to imitate a great one. He knew better than anyone what these people were really like.

He only needed to maintain a proper distance and authority, occasionally bestowing small favors, and they would praise his kindness and generosity.

For him now, this was all too easy—it didn’t even cost money.

And as a reward, when they returned home, they would tell their children or younger siblings to be not only as cautious as mice in the night, but also to learn from that good lad Asin, to be someone with promise like him.

After that, he didn't even need to speak; their children would seek him out on their own, treat him like an elder brother, and ask him for a job that would let them rise in the world.

These people had become his most solid base.

Perhaps he should think of a name for his clan.

Watching the neighbors leave, A Xin withdrew his gaze from their backs and looked at his most loyal servant, saying,

“Kunar, we have won this war.”

Kunar was slightly stunned.

“We?”

Wasn't this a war between the Iron Men and the Empire?

He didn't remember when he had joined the battle.

Those two days he had stayed with his family, as A Xin had instructed, in the warehouse he had bought in the port district.

Seeing Kunar's confusion, A Xin nodded and slowly began to speak.

“Yes, and not only we have won; all the survivors of Golden Gallon Port have won.”

Kunar looked at him without understanding, his eyes full of bewilderment.

Knowing what he was puzzled about, A Xin smiled faintly and said.

“Two weeks ago, would you have believed that a rat-kin could own a mansion of two or three hundred square meters on Tulip Street?”

The hint of youthful exuberance that floated between his brows was somewhat fitting for his age, after all he was only a seventeen-year-old lad.

Kunar shook his head instinctively, but quickly realized that his boss was a rat-kin, and hastily added a cautious remark.

“I didn't mean to offend you…”

“I know,” A Xin said indifferently, just squinting toward the Governor's Mansion and continuing, “Two weeks ago, a penniless rat-kin could never have been neighbors with the nobles there, not even qualified to pay, but now at least money is enough.”

He didn't feel the slightest pity for the shattered Golden Gallon Port; this place had never been his home, but His Majesty's.

Rather, it was better to smash this broken pot, so they could build a new home with their own hands on this ruin.

That would be truly their own.

As for those lofty nobles and those citizens who cried for their mothers after eating a bit of dirt, let them weep. When he was hungry, they never gave him a single coin, so he had no reason to sympathize with them.

But honestly, when he saw those people's reactions, he was actually a bit surprised.

Especially when he discovered that those who had lost the most not only didn't weep, but even changed their mindset faster than he, who had nothing, it almost overturned his original impression of those fellows.

He thought it over and over; besides status, bloodline, and pampered living habits, the only thing he lacked compared to those people seemed to be education.

Those fellows in clothes munching on white bread could all read and had studied a few books. He now had everything, but in this one thing he couldn't catch up to them.

And this made him resolve to hire a teacher for his younger brother and sister, or simply send them to study in Dawn City.

And—

He must find them a sister-in-law who had studied!

However, Kunar did not fully understand his words, or rather only heard the word 'money'.

Money was indeed a good thing.

Back when he followed Vikram, he had some face, but at most it made the poor wretches bow their heads; the clothed citizens wouldn't give him a second glance because of that wolf-kin's status, only despising him for mingling with a bunch of scum, and he himself would get dirty looks.

But now everything had changed; ever since he had money in his pocket, even the girls in dresses would give him extra glances, and even take his hand to talk about poetry and dreams. That girl promised him that as long as he bought her a ticket to Silver Moon Bay, she would do anything.

“Boss, you're right… we need to find a way to get more money,” Kunar said sullenly. “Collecting management fees from those scavengers is too slow; saving coin by coin, we'll never save up for a ship in a lifetime.”

A Xin was taken aback, not knowing why this fool wanted to buy a ship, but he agreed with the first half of his words.

They indeed needed money.

And a lot of it…

“Kunar, my friend, of course we can't get rich from scavenger fees, but don't underestimate this business of a few coins; the money we look down on, others will naturally value.”

He pointed with his chin at the young men carrying clubs and continued.

“It's not just we who need to rise in the world; they also need to become the pride of their families. We give them the authority to collect management fees here, and they get dignity and money from us. When we need to deal with those we can't handle ourselves, they will act for us.”

A look of sudden understanding appeared on Kunar's face, as if a light bulb went off in his mind, but soon he asked again.

“And what about us?”

“We'll do bigger business,” A Xin said, glancing at the ruins before him and squinting slightly. “This place is right next to the Governor's Mansion. If we build a row of buildings here, how much do you think they'll sell for?”

Kunar was stunned, but instead of thinking about money, he asked nervously.

“But what if the Empire's people come back?”

And this place was the Iron Men's shooting buffer zone; those people had paid to make them move away, how could they let them move back?!

A Xin curled his lip.

“You mean the Empire? Impossible. They've been scared out of their wits. If they intended to come back, they wouldn't have retreated so far. And even if they return, the battlefield won't be here, but in the trenches outside the settlement.”

On this matter, he had already consulted the adult named 'Family' yesterday.

Those Iron Men were not happy to see such a large piece of land go to waste, especially one so close to the port district.

They were completely different from the Governor; they seemed unable to bear seeing people live too harshly, perhaps related to the Great Horned Deer God they believed in.

But no matter what they wanted to do or what they desired, he would cater to these masters' tastes and serve them well.

Moreover, he also saw the potential of this land.

During this time, both the poor and the rich wanted to live closer to the Iron Men; if he built houses on this ruin, he could surely sell them for a lot of money.

He happened to have some capital on hand.

So when he proposed to contract this land, the adult named 'Family' was only surprised for a moment, then grinned and patted his shoulder in agreement, merely mentioning the matter of land tax and transaction tax.

However, these things didn't need to be worried about until the houses were built, or even until they were sold. Things might change later, but at least now their most urgent hope was to get the buildings up quickly, not how much they would sell for.

That adult, though somewhat eccentric in temperament, was a good person.

A Xin could feel that he was different from a scumbag like himself; he truly wanted to do some good deeds, and even refused the kickback A Xin offered as a tribute.

And it was precisely for this reason that he swore to that 'Family' that he would not disappoint his expectations and nurturing, and would handle this matter beautifully.

To ensure smooth and safe construction on this land, first they needed to eliminate the trouble of unexploded duds or explosives.

So he had the young men who once lived on the same street spread the word that there were many treasures here that the Iron Men looked down upon.

Not only that, he deliberately arranged a few 'shills' to occasionally find some 'treasures' buried under bricks, and show them off in front of the scavengers, exchanging them for money from the guards.

The scavengers lured by the rumors indeed became red-eyed vultures, eager to dig the place three feet deep.

These laborers, who cost him nothing and even paid him, would lick this battlefield clean, leaving not a single scrap behind.

Then he could recruit people to work here.

“…Kunar, I've thought it over. Unity is very important, perhaps even a little more important than the knowledge we lack. The Empire's lackeys were so vulnerable precisely because they were not united; they offended everyone in this settlement who could be offended, whether educated or not. We must never make the same mistake as them.”

On that slightly young face was written a maturity beyond his years; for a moment, Kunar felt he was somewhat unfamiliar.

Looking at his servant nodding blankly, A Xin paused and continued.

"So I plan to have everyone live together."

Kunar asked, puzzled.

"Live together?"

Asin did not answer directly.

"For a long time to come, I'm afraid the only safe places will be near those iron men. A lot of filth is going to surface. You see that ruin over there? Only scavengers are interested in it now, but once rows of buildings rise there, the city's rich will swarm to it like they do. I can bet you that a single brick here will one day buy their entire outfit—even their siblings, their granddaughters."

Kunar held his breath, as if stunned by the staggering truth, and only after a long pause managed to squeeze out a sentence.

"But... the iron men forbid the slave trade."

"How can you be as dumb as a pig? Did I say I was going to trade in slaves?"

Asin kicked him in frustration, but seeing the aggrieved look on his servant's face, he hooked an arm around his shoulder and patted him.

"Listen, Kunar. You were the first to stand by my side. Though to the outside world you're my servant, I've always treated you as a friend, as family... I'm telling you all this not to boast about how rich I'll be, but to let you know that you'll have a share of what's here—and a whole building at that!"

"A—a whole building?!" Kunar was dumbfounded, his voice stammering.

"Yes. They'll only get one apartment, but you'll get an entire building," Asin said, pointing at the young men in the distance, then patting the panting Kunar on the shoulder. "So you need to listen to every word I say. From now on, everyone on this street is our family. No matter how they treated you, me, or anyone else before, don't settle scores with them. Be polite, but not too kind. Only by winning them and their kin over can we turn our fists outward, so no one dares bully us."

Kunar swallowed hastily, nodded nervously, and was about to keep his mouth shut, but couldn't help asking one more question.

"Alright, boss... Can I ask you one more thing?"

Asin released his shoulder and gave him a casual look.

"Go ahead."

Kunar asked cautiously.

"What exactly do you want to do...?"

At that, a rare flicker of confusion passed through those fierce eyes—but only for a moment.

He answered quickly.

"I haven't figured it out yet. Maybe I will later. For now, I just want to make money and protect my family."

He had no ambition to become an emperor. For a rat-man to attempt such a thing was a bit too far-fetched, and besides, he had already gained wealth beyond his wildest dreams—both spiritually and materially satisfied.

His only thought now was to hold onto it.

But that wouldn't be easy.

For that, he needed a matching force.

He knew full well that the iron men cooperated with him not because of his strength or wealth—he had neither.

The real reason they chose him was that he could persuade people, do things for them that they couldn't do themselves, or even say.

To keep everything he now had, he had to keep rolling the snowball in his arms, and he could only keep rolling it, on and on.

If he didn't want to be devoured like fat meat by the other hyenas of the wasteland...

...

Asin wasn't the only one uncertain about the future. Rasi, fresh from a victory, was also lost in confusion.

Staring at the Killer's Dagger, who had brought news of a ceasefire, he felt a lump in his chest, choking the fire in his belly.

Unable to bear the ambition burning his soul, he shouted for the first time in a loud voice at the iron man in the exoskeleton.

"Why a ceasefire? The Emperor's army is utterly pathetic! With your help, we could storm the Celestial Capital! Then all the treasures, the palace, everything there would be yours. We only want their blood! Nothing else!"

If he could purge those mongrels mixed with Sun Tribe and Ox Tribe blood, he could rebuild the Moon Tribe's dynasty!

He would become the new Emperor and correct the mistakes of the past. After the reckoning, he would inject a bit of the Alliance's principles into the theory of a thousand tribes and a thousand gods—things like unity, equality, and abolition—just as the Desert Kings were doing.

The curse that plagued this land would end with him!

And the reborn Empire would be more stable and united than the old one!

To be honest, the Killer's Dagger didn't particularly like this guy, even though quite a few people on the forum liked this NPC.

That was normal. Even among thrill-seekers, not everyone finds joy in the same things.

Brother Mosquito wanted explosions, Awei wanted to give cute girls a home, and Debt-Eyes was the same, just with a different direction of effort.

But undeniably, compared to those slaves with nothing but hot blood, this guy had something.

"Calm down."

Looking at the red-faced, thick-necked man, the Killer's Dagger didn't even move a shoulder, speaking calmly.

"You should know under whose help you were able to crush the Grey Wolf Army so easily. We don't deny your contributions in battle, but you need to recognize yourself. You and your men are no match for that Arayan. As easily as we could crush them, they could crush you."

Rasi stared at him in disbelief.

"Aren't we friends?"

Knowing the stunned expression was feigned cunning, the Killer's Dagger ignored it outright, continuing in a flat tone.

"Yes, but they have their own friends too, farther west... Those big-noses, by ship, are even closer to here than we are. Do you understand? If we keep fighting, it'll be all-out war. We'd not only have to spend hundreds of millions of silver coins, but we might also give more dangerous enemies an opening. Ask yourself: are you worth that expense to us now?"

It wasn't just about money.

The attitude of the faction boss mattered more than money. They had to constantly consider whether their actions aligned with the Alliance's overall interests.

But there was no need to tell this guy that.

Sensing his rudeness from the sharp tone, Rasi took a deep breath, struggling to control his agitation.

He didn't know what the greater threat was, but he wanted to make one last effort for the people of this land.

Looking at the instructor, he said earnestly,

"Please let me meet Mr. Fangchang!"

The Killer's Dagger said seriously,

"This was Fangchang's idea, and the result of our collective discussion."

Rasi was utterly despairing.

No—

Not exactly despair.

It was just that the flame of ambition burning in his heart had been doused a little by a bucket of cold water.

He realized that relying on outsiders to become emperor was impractical. No one would be generous enough to do everything for their good.

And his own power was too insignificant to match his ambition.

Perhaps—

He should be more practical, start as a warlord or something similar, and aim for the throne gradually.

His Adam's apple bobbed as he continued.

"What about the Grey Wolves? The prisoners. How do you plan to deal with them?"

The Killer's Dagger gave him a strange look, wondering why he suddenly asked that.

But he was somewhat satisfied that the guy hadn't kept harping on the previous issue, so he replied in a milder tone.

"We plan to have them build a prisoner-of-war camp outside the city; reforming those who need reforming through labor has always been our practice back home."

Rasi was taken aback and asked instinctively.

"Why not lock them up in Lowell Camp? We can go live in that so-called camp instead!"

Murder Dagger stared blankly at this suddenly crazed fellow, momentarily unsure who was the real dagger.

"That's a POW camp, are you insane?"

Rasi spread his arms, took two steps back, then clasped his hands together and pleaded.

"Please, I promised my men—I said I would lock those beasts in cages… at least let them feel what we once suffered, and the fury we slaves hold for them!"

He needed to humiliate those wretches to bolster his authority among his subordinates.

His demand was modest—at least let them stay there for a few days!

Not knowing what exactly this fellow had up his sleeve, Murder Dagger seriously considered his request for a moment.

Though he thought of telling these people that venting their rage on fellow countrymen who had also been duped was unreasonable, he soon recalled what Fang Chang had said to him earlier—

"Some things are too advanced for them."

With that in mind, Murder Dagger spoke.

"This request is reasonable. I will consult the others, but at most it can delay us a week. Our demands for those prisoners are not just punishment; we also hope to use their labor to rebuild Golden Gallon Port. Construction is the top priority now."

Rasi was overjoyed at this and quickly said,

"Thank you! No need that long—three days will be enough!"

Murder Dagger nodded.

"Wait for my word."

With that, under Rasi's respectful gaze, he climbed into the armored off-road vehicle parked at the camp entrance and drove off toward the port…