Chapter 76: Adrian’s Fury

The glow of the setting sun filtered through stained glass, spilling into the hall from narrow high windows. The originally brilliant light was fractured by the colored panes, turning into mottled, uncanny patterns.

Wind Orchid City was a border city within Rick Province. It possessed vast, fertile plains as well as treacherous mountain ranges, and the city itself stood at the junction between mountains and flatlands. The region was famous for its beer, goats, and horses.

And the lord of this city, Adrian Ross, sat at a long table beneath the mottled sunset. He reached out and picked up a cute cloth doll, his brows tightly furrowed. The stained glass was green, so the light shining through it was also green—distorted and uneven—making the otherwise spirited young noble look faintly terrifying.

“My dear elder brother… why does he always send me these ridiculous dolls? I’m not a child anymore. Damn it—he’s humiliating me!”

The more he spoke, the more agitated he became. Adrian abruptly stood up and hurled the doll to the floor, his teeth clenched, his face twisted. “I’ll kill him! And my sister too, and that cowardly third brother! Oh—and that damned younger sister as well!”

Standing nearby was the Divine Chosen Alison Marius. She idly toyed with the rose ribbon tied at her waist. The soft curves of her chest strained against her elegant clothing, and a cute hair ornament atop her head gave her a playful appearance. Yet her expression was melancholic, devoid of any liveliness.

She was long accustomed to her lord’s temper. Though he was irritable and often hurled insults, he never crossed the line into truly harming her.

Adrian’s madness was simply without reason.

“Shall I burn them?” she asked.

Her originally gray hair instantly shifted into a molten wine-red, as if it were burning. Hollow crimson butterflies fluttered through the air, and a blazing sphere of fire in Alison’s palm shone like a miniature sun, illuminating the entire hall.

The servants lowered their heads, not daring to look directly.

The flames seemed to drive away the gloom. Adrian dropped heavily into his chair, rubbing his brow in pain. “No. Put them in storage. If you’ve got nothing else to do, then leave.”

“I… my lord, I have a request.” A trace of sorrow appeared on Alison’s cold face. “I hope you can accept refugees from the Purple Gold Empire and grant them food and water. They are my people—I cannot stand by and watch them die.”

With her gray hair and the surname Marius, Alison was indeed a remnant of the Purple Gold Empire. However, before the empire’s fall, her family had already relocated to the Sacred Griffin Empire.

The last capital of the Purple Gold Empire, which had been besieged, had fallen just a week ago.

The City of Worldly Desire—the Purple Gold Empire—had completely fallen into the hands of the Heretics. The emperor and the Divine Chosen had all been killed or violated. What followed was a massacre of civilians. Fortunately, the heretical emperor had a decent character and pardoned half of the population.

That was how refugees from the Purple Gold Empire were able to flood into the Sacred Griffin Empire.

Adrian fell silent for a moment. “I will accept wealthy merchants. If there are Divine Chosen, mages, or knights, I can offer assistance.”

“But the ones who truly need help are—”

Alison tried to continue, only to be cut off by Adrian raising a hand.

“Do you think my situation is good right now?” he said coldly. “Wind Orchid City is not solely under my control. Most of the power is still held by my father, and he even arranged officials to monitor me. Damn it. And even if I had supplies, I wouldn’t give them to refugees—they’re good for nothing except eating and defecating.”

“…Understood,” Alison replied softly, lowering her head in grievance as she accepted the answer.

Adrian did not wish to dwell on it. He turned toward another matter.

“Kuchi’s death—have you found the culprit? Was it that bastard Gareth? He’s vanished like smoke.”

“We have no leads,” his advisor stepped forward and replied. “No survivors, no witnesses. Baron Simon even sent a letter expressing his condolences.” The advisor hesitated, then added, “There is one more matter. Baron Simon mentioned your brother, Baron Phield. Not only is he alive, but he has gained a significant amount of funding from Simon.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Adrian’s body trembled as he lost control again. “How could he be alive? He must never have gone to the Northern Province. Yes—that’s it. That cowardly disgrace has violated imperial law and shamed our family.”

“But… he brought back a monster’s head from the Deathly Mist, along with fine wine. And the garrison at Maple Leaf Fortress confirmed that he entered the Northern Province.”

Adrian nearly flipped the table in rage. “Impossible. Absolutely impossible!”

“Alison—go to Maple Leaf Territory and kill Phield!” Adrian slammed his hand against the table. “I will not allow that useless waste to take a share of the family inheritance. And kill Simon as well! My entire shipment disappeared on his land—it must have been him! There’s no way my useless brother could have done it!”

“Sending a Divine Chosen into another noble’s territory to assassinate a noble is equivalent to declaring war,” the advisor said calmly. “And deploying troops would be the same. Besides… you wouldn’t want to be branded a fratricide, would you?”

A noble’s reputation was everything. They could oppress commoners, die from a warhorse’s kick, or drown in a latrine—but harming one’s own kin would brand them with eternal disgrace, leaving them without allies or recognition.

“Then we—”

Before Adrian could finish, hurried footsteps sounded outside.

“My lord! The peasants of Itavon Province have been incited by Cultists—they’ve risen in open rebellion!”

The messenger stumbled in and handed over a letter. His words made everyone present suck in a sharp breath.

The Shadow World Sect had sparked an uprising in the prosperous city of Nogaisk in Itavon Province. Viscount Lucius, who guarded the frontier, and his family had been killed and sacrificed by Cultists. Several nearby barons had been caught off guard—three were slain, while one escaped with the help of a Divine Chosen.

A retainer widened his eyes. “This… this isn’t just peasants rebelling. Peasants can’t defeat fully armed soldiers, much less Divine Chosen.”

Even a weaker baron could easily suppress several times their number of farmers or slaves by fielding five knights, a hundred fully armed soldiers, and five or six hundred conscripted serfs.

Not to mention a viscount with Divine Chosen and fortified castles.

“Exactly. That’s why the royal court has taken notice. This is a conspiracy. The fall of the Purple Gold Empire has emboldened the forces of darkness.”

The governor of Itavon Province was furious, demanding that all nobles within the province immediately suppress the rebellion. The imperial court had also ordered surrounding provinces to provide assistance.

As a neighboring territory, Wind Orchid City would inevitably be drawn into the conflict.

Everyone fell into heavy silence.

…

Northern Province — Nightfall Domain.

Phield was busier than ever.

Clang, clang—

A massive gray stone slab lay on the ground, intricately carved with philosophical depictions of the cosmos and humanity. Yet Drakewolf smashed it into fragments with a single strike. Slaves hauled away the smaller pieces, breaking them down further before spreading them across the compacted roadbed to form a gravel road.

After a week of construction, the road had finally begun to take shape.

Without proper surveying instruments, the road was inevitably uneven, and the materials were laid inconsistently, affecting its lifespan.

But Phield was already satisfied. This was only temporary; someday it would be replaced with superior materials—cement or even magical composites.

Raw materials from the quarry and lumberyard flowed endlessly into the territory. Low-quality scraps were bought by slaves to build their own shacks. Yes—bought.

At the entrance of the Grand Winery, Phield had set up something barely worthy of being called a “market,” selling discarded materials. A large bundle of wood scraps could be bought for a single copper coin—useful for fuel or makeshift shelters.

The market’s profit was almost zero, and Phield never expected much income from it. It existed purely to signal his administrative direction—to tell the people that their coins would eventually have somewhere to be spent.

Because of this, the enthusiasm of the free folk rose sharply. They were willing to work for Phield in exchange for wages—transporting stone from the quarry or joining other labor projects.

“Once the first harvest comes in, we can stop distributing free food,” Phield said, watching the dwindling stores with a bleeding heart. “After that, the free folk will be responsible for their own survival—or they can buy food with money.”

All the food in the territory currently came from Phield himself, including supplies for the free folk. After all, he couldn’t just let them starve.

“My lord! My lord! The first batch of Vigor Elixir is finished!” Ashina ran over, practically bouncing with excitement. “We made a ton, and it tastes sweet!”

“It might not do much for you, but don’t treat it like candy,” Phield said helplessly. Ashina was far too greedy when it came to sweets. “How did the testing go?”

Ashina’s cheeks reddened slightly.

“Kaor handled that part… I don’t know.”

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