Volu 2
Chapter 73 : They Are Not So Simple
Henk’s father had been kidnapped, his hand severed, with the word “Price” carved into the palm.
Due to the brutality of the act, Rozokaira suppressed the news.
Only he, Henk and Lauriel knew.
“It was bound to happen.”
The seasoned rchant’s face was grim as he paced the office.
His concern wasn’t Henk’s father.
To him, the farr was rely Lauriel’s accessory.
Whether that nearly decrepit father lived or died was irrelevant.
What troubled Rozokaira was an off-board move from other forces.
Though he was Little Pelican City’s richest man, with so capital even in Watson Territory, he was nothing compared to the truly wealthy families.
Just as Lauriel bet that rchants, constrained by so rule, wouldn’t dare overstep, Rozokaira bet that the Pelican Guild wouldn’t collapse under ruthless tactics from other wealthy rchants.
He thought he’d won that bet.
After all, anyone could see the guild’s potential.
Even Qingling City’s local grain guilds, striking back with all their might, could’ve hindered them with various tactics.
Yet the Pelican Guild had grown smoothly in such a short ti, unhindered, proving he was right.
But if he was right... Who kidnapped Henk’s father?
The plain-looking farr Lauriel also frowned, clearly thinking the sa and equally puzzled.
“If it was... another guild’s doing,” he muttered, “why now?”
“But if not them, who else could it be?” Rozokaira exhaled a puff of cigar smoke. “Or has that big shot grown bored? Canceling the rules to watch us tear at each other like wild dogs? That’d suit their character.”
His latter words made the usually calm Lauriel tremble, but neither the terrified Henk nor the preoccupied Rozokaira noticed.
The stout man took a deep breath, grabbing the hand on the table, staring again at the word carved in the palm—Price.
As if driven by sothing frantic, Lauriel pushed his mind to its limits, temples throbbing.
After an unknown ti, staring at the word, he blurted out, “What if it’s not for profit, but... revenge?”
“...Revenge?” Rozokaira paused, then stroked his chin thoughtfully.
“You an, other farrs?”
“I can’t think of any other possibility.”
Lauriel replied, turning to Henk.
“Henk, have you corresponded with your family?”
“...Huh? Yeah, I had soone deliver a letter to my dad and brother, and... so stuff.”
Confused and panicked, Henk answered helplessly, “Lauriel, my dad, my brother, they—”
“Calm down,” Lauriel interrupted.
“We’re figuring it out.”
“Did you tell your father in the letter how well you’re doing, your status, and about the Pelican Guild?”
Worried sick about his family, Henk spoke freely.
“Yeah, yeah, is that... not okay?”
Lauriel and Rozokaira exchanged knowing looks.
Then, surprisingly... they both sighed in relief.
“So that’s it. Haha, I almost got scared,” Rozokaira grinned.
“Nothing to worry about then.”
“Just a revenge act. We just need to be more cautious...”
“Wait, what are you talking about?”
Their apparent indifference to his father’s safety made Henk raise his voice unconsciously.
“Why was my dad targeted? What... what’s happened to him?”
Rozokaira and Lauriel, now visibly relaxed, looked at Henk.
Their gazes made him shrink back, stirring an odd, suppressed... anger.
Finally, Lauriel spoke.
“It’s simple. Most likely, after your father got your letter, he bragged about you back ho, revealing your identity. Then... other farrs took him.”
“No way!” Henk shouted in disbelief.
“Everyone in the village is good. They wouldn’t do this!”
“Good people among those about to be ruined?” Rozokaira sneered.
“Henk, where’s your hotown? Where’s their grain sold?”
“Around... around Qingling City.”
Then, Lauriel patiently gave Henk a lesson.
The grain market, its takeover, its destruction, and the final outco... After hearing it all, Henk stood frozen, silent for a long ti.
“We’ll find a way to save your father, don’t worry,” Lauriel said, patting Henk’s shoulder perfunctorily. “The guild has plenty of money. Saving him won’t be hard. By the way, Mr. Heg, that communication...”
The dismissive voices faded in Henk’s ears.
His mind echoed only with Lauriel’s earlier words.
After a long ti, he suddenly rushed out of the lounge without a word.
“Your friend seems pretty shaken, Mr. Moramo,” Rozokaira remarked, shrugging.
“Just help him get revenge. Kill everyone who took his father, and he won’t complain much,” Lauriel said calmly.
“Even if he does, it doesn’t matter. If he’s too ungrateful, we’ll replace him.”
“Haha, I like that attitude, Mr. Moramo. You’re a great partner.”
The two paid little attention to the youth who fled, continuing their business talk.
Curiously, the two who had been debating whether to expand production now reached an agreent:
Increase yield and speed, but not just that.
They would boost the Pelican Guild’s fa, promoting their fantastical grain... across the entire Empire.
Within days, a renowned imperial gourt passed through Watson Territory.
By “chance,” he dined at a restaurant with special ingredients.
After tasting their vegetable and grain dishes, he was astounded.
[From a culinary perspective, this restaurant’s skill is abysmal, yet even with such dreadful cooking, the ingredients effortlessly moved . Their quality is extraordinary.]
[An ordinary restaurant in an ordinary territory shouldn’t have such perfect ingredients. Upon inquiry, I learned... such ingredients can be bought in Watson Territory at prices nearly identical to common ones.]
[I didn’t believe it until I bought a tomato in this small territory’s market, so fresh it brought tears to my eyes.]
This gourt was renowned—among the noble circles, that is.
His article, published in the Imperial Capital, caused a massive stir.
A stir so great it was... almost incomprehensible.
“Mingfuluo!”
In Babel Tower’s public cafeteria, Hendrik waved cheerfully at Mingfuluo, who held a plate of vegetables. “Co sit!”
Miss Doll paused, silent for two or three seconds, then quietly sat across from him.
“The public cafeteria’s use ingredients grown with the Soil Enhancent Potion,” Hendrik said happily. “How’s the taste?”
“It’s fine,” Mingfuluo replied softly, head lowered.
“I don’t have a standard for judging food.”
“And I’ve never seen you in the cafeteria... trying the new ingredients?”
“...Sort of.”
—She wouldn’t say soone, under the guise of her father, had ordered her to eat three als daily.
Hendrik, used to Mingfuluo’s deanor, remained cheerful, handing her a newspaper.
“Mingfuluo... we did it. We really did it!”
Mingfuluo glanced at the paper.
The bold, sowhat sensational headline made her frown deeply.
[A Miraculous Potion from Babel Tower, the Holy Miracle to End Hunger?]
But Hendrik, undeterred, gushed excitedly, “I’ve been keeping an eye on Little Pelican City and Breeze City. Breeze City’s quiet for so reason, but Little Pelican City... heavens, their efficiency—not just in planting, but in distributing grain across the territory—is incredible!”
The middle-aged man’s eyes shone with fulfilled hope.
“In just over a month, a mid-sized territory is nearly hunger-free. And we only gave them a small dose of the potion. If we provide more, reclaim more fields, the Empire’s hunger problem could—”
“This is veering off our plan, Hendrik.”
Mingfuluo calmly cut off his enthusiasm.
“We ant to limit this to those two territories. Now the whole Empire knows... Do you think that’s good?”
Hendrik paused, then rubbed his forehead with a wry smile.
“You’re right. This suddenly blows up... it’ll be troubleso for Lord Anselm.”
No... the problem lies with Anselm.
Mingfuluo, gripping her knife and fork, stayed silent.
In brief monts alone, away from Anselm, she could barely reclaim the rational, calm self capable of analyzing the situation clearly.
Because with Anselm, the pressure she felt... was imnse.
She was constantly thinking, or being guided to think, about what was happening, not what Anselm wanted.
This was good, but... not entirely good.
Under this imnse pressure, Mingfuluo had almost forgotten the belief she had always clung to—that Anselm harbored ill intentions toward her.
Or rather, she seed to have... truly abandoned that belief.
Because Anselm, in playing the role of “Father,” was simply too perfect.
So perfect that Mingfuluo, who had lacked this crucial figure in her life, craved his guidance, his teachings, and the tangible knowledge of “transformation” when she was with him, despite the pressure.
Even now, in monts of calm, she could clearly recognize this, but it was... already too late.
She couldn’t break free from this feeling.
Or rather, this was the rational choice Mingfuluo made after weighing the pros and cons.
When with Anselm, she had no energy left to think about these things.
Only when she was Mingfuluo again could she faintly glimpse the potential danger lurking in this anomaly.
This ga, orchestrated by Anselm... its outco hinged on which of the two territories ultimately developed better.
By normal standards, a territory’s developnt was a long process.
Even a year might not show clear changes, let alone a month.
But... Little Pelican City was like a carriage pulled by a frenzied horse dosed with potions, galloping recklessly, almost madly, across the plains.
Too fast.
As if an invisible hand were dragging it, pulling it toward a bottomless abyss.
Drawing too much attention was definitely not good, yet Mingfuluo couldn’t pinpoint exactly why.
Anselm had restrained all transcendent beings, so no one could seize or plunder this fruit through violence.
The source of her unease, the unknown problem... Where did it lie?
Mingfuluo silently ate a piece of broccoli, feeling a hint of relief that Anselm didn’t keep her by his side constantly.
Otherwise, where would she find the ti or ntal space to think about these things?
Amid this relief, Mingfuluo also felt a deep sense of powerlessness.
Even if she could think and identify problems, she was powerless to change anything.
The only one who could change it all was Fath—
A sudden thought flashed through Miss Doll’s mind and almost simultaneously, her body stiffened, her chewing pausing.
...Absurd.
She murmured to herself, resuming her al.
But a vibration from her lab coat pocket interrupted her again.
This ti, Mingfuluo said nothing, swiftly standing with her plate, ignoring the half-eaten food, and preparing to leave.
“Mingfuluo? Leaving already?” Hendrik didn’t understand why she was suddenly departing.
“Let’s talk more about Little Pelican City, and maybe the Soil Enhancent Potion could still be improved—”
“Anselm called .”
With just that sentence, Hendrik could say no more.
He smiled, saying warmly, “Then Lord Anselm’s matters are more important. Go quickly.”
Mingfuluo nodded slightly, but as she turned to leave, Hendrik suddenly called out again.
“...Mingfuluo.”
This middle-aged man, a ntor and father figure, one of the few significant people in her life, hesitated for a long ti before saying softly, “Are you... happy now?”
Mingfuluo frowned slightly, seeming puzzled. “Why ask that?”
“I just... want to know,” Hendrik said, appearing sowhat uneasy, nervous for reasons unknown.
“Seeing Little Pelican City, seeing Watson Territory change like this, does it make you happy? Do you feel... all your efforts were worthwhile?”
Mingfuluo gazed quietly at Hendrik, the calm in her purple eyes making him instinctively look away.
“I’m doing well, Hendrik,” Mingfuluo replied softly. “As you said, I feel it’s all been worth it.”
“Why would you doubt that? You, Ronggor, and the others, after Grandfather’s passing, have always taught this, haven’t you?”
“Just confirming,” Hendrik said, reassured by her response.
“You bear so much... Recently, Ronggor and I started to... regret, thinking the expectations and pressure we placed on you might have been too great.”
“That’s not the case, Hendrik.”
Mingfuluo Zege’s lips curved into a barely perceptible smile.
“I’m doing well now, and I’ll do even better in the future. Don’t worry.”
“Yes, you truly are... an extraordinary genius, Mingfuluo.”
Watching her leave, Hendrik murmured with relief and gratitude, “You’re not suffering because of this... That’s truly wonderful.”
Mingfuluo didn’t hear his words, but her steps grew unconsciously lighter.
Even though she hadn’t noticed that ti and again, she was... increasingly eager to et Anselm.
When betrayal beca an unavoidable misunderstanding, when she faced countless dilemmas and struggled to move forward... Mingfuluo increasingly wanted to be with Anselm again.
But the boy from the past was no longer young, nor did he treat her with the warmth and familiarity of a friend as he once had.
The young man now, beneath his gentle facade, hid a coldness Mingfuluo could vaguely discern.
He was lofty, always holding absolute control.
They were no longer friends, just as in that speech when he carried an exhausted Hitana away, leaving her behind in the ruins, his attitude had made clear.
But that was fine.
This was good. This was... also very good.
***
In the lounge, Mingfuluo was observing scenes from Hydra’s Domain, specifically the other territory in this ga—Breeze City—through the Shadow Crystal Anselm had given her.
Breeze City, relocated to Mirror Lake Territory, showed the sa phenonon as Little Pelican City—high-yield, high-speed, high-quality grain sweeping the market, putting imnse pressure on other farrs.
But strangely, Breeze City only showed this trend.
It hadn’t birthed a guild dominating the territory’s grain market like Little Pelican City, nor had it driven farrs to near-mad desperation.
The petite scholar, hugging her knees on the sofa, frowned slightly, murmuring, “What’s... the difference? Is it because Breeze City lacks soone like Lauriel to unify all the enhanced fields? No... that’s not it, what is it...”
As she pondered, Anselm entered with a fruit platter, his steps light, his mood evidently bright.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Why Breeze City... seems so quiet,” Mingfuluo answered honestly.
Anselm only smiled.
“Have so fruit first. Do you know why I called you here?”
Mingfuluo, picking up a sweet strawberry, shook her head.
“Because sothing big is about to happen in Little Pelican City, and I need you to be a witness.”
“...Sothing big?”
Mingfuluo had never stopped observing Little Pelican City and Watson Territory, but she couldn’t monitor every detail, only focusing on what her thoughts demanded.
If it was sothing big, there should’ve been signs.
Why hadn’t she... noticed anything?
As Mingfuluo thought, Anselm leisurely sat beside her, patting his lap.
Miss Doll obediently and skillfully climbed into his lap, the familiar warmth from his back and her hips making her unconsciously relax.
“Let think... Where to begin? Oh, it doesn’t matter.”
Anselm said sothing odd, then snapped his fingers lightly and a light screen appeared before them.
“...”
The screen showed a man and woman in the act of copulation.
Mingfuluo turned her head away, silent for a mont before asking softly, “This is... the big event?”
“Don’t just look at the surface, dear Helen.”
Anselm gently but firmly held her face, forcing her to look at the screen. “Look closely—his physical traits, fingers, skin, build.”
“Rough knuckles, calloused, Neville, dark skin...” Mingfuluo quickly realized. “He’s... a farr?”
“More precisely, a farr who’s now the envy of all Little Pelican City and Watson Territory.”
“...But what does he have to do with the big event?”
After confirming the man’s identity, Anselm released her face.
She looked away, saying, “There are plenty of such farrs in Little Pelican City.”
“Yes, but soon there won’t be many left.”
“Wha—”
Before she could finish, the bedroom window of the farr and woman shattered.
A burly man burst through, rushing to the stunned pair in a few strides, pulling a dagger from his coat and stabbing it into the farr’s chest with a ferocious expression.
One, two stabs—the sound of flesh being pierced echoed in the lounge, the blood splattering from the farr’s chest seeming to stain the floor.
Mingfuluo sat frozen in Anselm’s lap, her mind blank for a mont.
Anselm, smiling, waved his hand and more screens appeared before her.
So showed farrs hacked to death, others fighting assailants, and so unhard but facing unknown fates.
“What’s... happening?”
Mingfuluo clenched her fists, nearly standing up.
She saw clearly—the physical traits of those assassins, those thugs, were the sa as Little Pelican City’s farrs!
They... were farrs too!
“Is it hard to understand?” Anselm said with a casual smile.
“Sothing we couldn’t possibly have noticed must have happened, escalating the conflict between these farrs and Little Pelican City’s farrs to an irreconcilable point.”
“If they can’t survive...”
The young Hydra stroked Mingfuluo’s cheek.
“Why not take those who caused their ruin with them?”
“But... impossible. How could the conflict escalate to this degree so quickly?”
Mingfuluo instinctively protested.
“It would take at least two months, no, three... How could normal people beco so radical and brutal, and they—”
“You’ve noticed the problem. That’s good, dear Helen.”
Anselm said with great satisfaction.
“But before that... let’s see how this event ends.”
He enlarged one screen, its protagonist none other than Lauriel Moramo, the man who sparked the upheaval in Watson Territory, sent by his father at great cost to serve a second-tier transcendent being.
Lauriel was writing in his study when the screen showed two ard farrs breaking in.
Lauriel heard the noise downstairs, stood alertly, opened the door, and called for a servant, only to hear a scream.
His expression changed.
He searched the room for a weapon but found none.
He opened the window to jump but hesitated, one foot on the sill.
As heavy footsteps approached, he withdrew, sat at his desk, took a deep breath, and stared at the door.
Soon, two blood-soaked farrs kicked it open, advancing with cruel, ferocious expressions.
Mingfuluo saw the excitent, ecstasy and a sense of... release in their eyes, as if this act would leave them with no regrets.
But Lauriel, seated, showed no fear.
As they approached, he said calmly, “You’re... farrs too, right?”
“Too? Pfft! We’re not like you, you wizard, you devil!”
One farr spat blood, exhaling a foul breath.
“You’ll pay the price... you damned thing!”
“I don’t think so,” Lauriel said, shaking his head.
“Because you still have a chance.”
“Haha, you’re scared out of your mind! A chance? Kneel and beg, maybe—”
“Many have died already, haven’t they?”
Lauriel leaned forward, his tone earnest.
“So, how about I give you the magical fields of the dead? What do you say?”
The farrs’ ferocious expressions froze.
Then, Mingfuluo watched as their vengeful, death-defying looks lted away at a visible pace.
After monts of doubt, hesitation, and struggle, their faces lit up with unmistakable, chilling ecstasy and... greed.
In that instant—
All hatred vanished into thin air.
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