Chapter 627: Chapter 62 Afternoon of the Empire_2 Chapter 627: Chapter 62 Afternoon of the Empire_2 The victory of the war had brought unimaginable dividends, reviving the imperial economy completely and making the lives of the Imperial People exceedingly bustling.
After experiencing multiple suicide attacks by the demons, the people’s aversion and hatred towards The Abyss had reached its zenith, almost to the point of collective animosity.
This war had allowed the Imperial People to vent their frustration vehently, earning continuous applause.
Tens of millions of abyssal demons perished under the Empire’s heavy artillery fire, and even the abyssal giant dragons, resembling towering mountains, were slain by His Majesty Cassius, the supre and majestic.
At the ntion of that glorious victory, every citizen of the Empire would proudly puff out their chest, filled with pride and excitent from the bottom of their hearts.
…
Three days had passed since the Imperial Army triumphantly returned, but the all-night celebrations persisted, with the passionate and rousing “Cassius’s Hymn” echoing across Emperor’s Square.
“This grace, how could we forget? His Majesty makes mountain springs flow down to the plains, brings tily rain to nourish every land…”
In addition, groups of exuberant Conquest Party mbers marched in processions, belting out the crude ballads of the conquest of the South.
Humans, Great Goblins, Ogres, Tieflings, and other Soldiers returning from the battlefield crowded the square, tossing aside racial barriers, toasting and reveling together.
“Co! To the Empire, cheers!”
“For victory! Cheers!”
“Co on, drink up! After barely making it back alive, you deserve to let loose!”
An Ogre bellowed, “Owner, bring up two more barrels of booze, yes, those biggest wooden barrels, I’m going to chug it in one go!”
“Which defense sector were you responsible for? I was from the third sector, the fighting there was too intense, I crawled out of a pile of dead bodies…”
“What a coincidence, I was an artilleryman from the third sector.”
“Wow, hahaha, what fate! Maybe it was your cannonball that saved !”
Amidst this heated atmosphere, George and Grace, two inconspicuous Humans, also stepped through the threshold of the tavern.
The waiter at the door was initially indifferent, but upon seeing the “Heroic dal” on George’s chest and the badge representing his status as the Dragonblood Baron, his eyes lit up, and he imdiately greeted them with enthusiasm.
Within the Empire’s boundaries, such military nobility held the most revered status, and every tavern and shop welcod them—for these individuals were known to be quite generous, often spending dozens of Ginnars.
With a rosy face, the waiter made a welcoming gesture, his face full of sycophantic smiles: “Please co in, Your Excellences! Let take you to the VIP seats.”
George, evidently accustod to such treatnt, said in a relaxed tone, “No need, we’ll just find a spot anywhere.”
The waiter nodded repeatedly: “Alright, as you wish. If you have any requests, just give the order.”
George and Grace found a relatively quiet spot and ordered several bottles of fine liquor.
—Among them was the recently most sought-after “Triumph Song,” priced at three Ginnars a bottle.
The waiter swiftly brought over a few exquisitely packaged bottles of wine, gently shook them, and poured them into their glasses.
It was said that the “Triumph Song” was specially crafted by a wine master among the Starfallen, tailored for the warriors returning from victory.
It allowed one to experience the thrill of killing enemies on the battlefield, filling the mind with the joy and excitent of victory; however, its price was correspondingly steep.
Just one bottle of this wine could cost an ordinary Worker several months’ wages.
Though forrly a Serf who had experienced hunger, George wasn’t one for luxury, but in the excitent of returning from triumph, he chose to indulge himself.
“Heh, Grace…
I always said, as long as His Majesty Cassius is in that supre position, the Empire will definitely erge victorious. And your worries… were completely unnecessary.”
George looked out at the lively scene through the window and downed the wine in his glass in one go.
That warm current infused with Magical Power surged through his body, truly giving a stimulating and pleasurable sensation akin to slaying enemies on the battlefield.
“Yes, the Empire was bound to be victorious.”
Grace shook his head with a chuckle: “How foolish I was to doubt His Majesty’s strength.”
He took only a sip of the potent liquor in his glass and his face imdiately turned red, sweat beaded his forehead, and his eyes radiated excitent.
George nodded solemnly, “But… the strength of those demons should not be underestimated; they are worlds apart from the weaklings of the North.
According to the higher-ups, this war has caused casualties in the hundreds of thousands.”
Grace cracked a wide smile, laughing unabashedly: “Regardless, we survived this battle, didn’t we?”
He staggered to his feet, raising his glass to George and to the soldiers nearby: “To victory! To us, who have lived!”
A smile appeared on George’s face; he poured himself a full glass of wine, raised his glass, and whispered, “To victory.”
Then he tilted his head back and downed the fiery liquor in one gulp, but George remained composed, with not a hint of drunkenness on his face.
“Bang!”
The unsteady Grace collapsed onto the table, drenched in sweat; just one glass was enough to overwhelm him.
It was rumored that the “Triumph Song” contained the powdered bones of a Fire Drake, possessing an exceedingly potent effect, creating a fiery surge within one’s belly, a sensation so intense that even a Dragon Vein Creature could hardly withstand two glasses.
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