A warrior quickly became enraged and said, “Master! It’s plain that they mock us Li’s here. Should I…?”
The silk-clad noble stopped the soldier with a raised hand before further outbursts could follow. A chill smile crossed his face—”Alright, you few come with me. Let us take a closer look at just which fortunate soul earned so many exploits that we should be left waiting here!”
Just then, inside the large office on the third floor, several young female officers continued to pull all kinds of credentials of battlefield feats from two overstuffed packs, sorting them meticulously into categories on the table nearby. Beside them, three others dedicated their full attention to verification and record-keeping. Any uncertain identification would be sent promptly to the major for final judgment.
Fangs from vampire lords, ears of lycanthropes, the skulls of arachne, and venom sacs from dire spiders were cast quickly onto the already filled floor, most of which bore grim bloodied reminders long past the moment of life lost.
Yet within the tender eyes of these youthful military females, each was nothing short of gilded promise; their careful hands touched each item lovingly—so tenderly in fact, that their touches rivaled caresses shown to a beloved lover. And between their chores, a few furtive glances toward Qian Ye could not escape notice, glances full of coy allure.
There, off to the side, Qian Ye sat patiently sipping tea, his thoughts in his own world as though not noticing anything from these dainty officers.
The major approached Qian Ye from the rear and bowed at a steep ninety degrees, his tone oozing servility—“M’lord, we’ve finished the primary accounting of the spoils of war, Your Grace. We’ve separated out all those of viscount level there, may I ask if anything seems unaccounted for?”
The central desk, once belonging exclusively to the major, now occupied the chamber’s very heart—a full array of viscount-caliber credentials filled top to overflowing. There in plain view lay five conspicuously dark-colored spider eggs. And on the very floor beneath his boots? The less prestigious trophies, unworthy of table placement, waited their place.
A simple glance over the spoils allowed Qian Ye to detect no inaccuracies—”Indeed—no fault found.”
“Might I proceed formally then with the official tally process?”
“Hold on,” Qian Ye added sharply. From beneath his coat, produced was a large-sized black crystal egg, of a size to dwarf one’s own head. It landed into the major’s waiting palms.
The major stared into its depths. So darkly lustrous, so large… his heart began beating irregularly. This was— “Your Grace. Might this possibly be… a Viscount First-Class spider crystal?”
The door opened with force as the well-dressed young noble, Li Pei of Yue Continent’s famed Yue-Li’s, swept in dramatically. His words echoed grandly—“A most humble honor to make the acquaintance of an individual truly deserving of such dedicated attention across the entire Merits Bureau. Would you—” His speech cut mid-sentence like it had been severed.
His widened gaze could not deviate an inch from the treasures on the table: those lustrously polished vampire teeth, unslouched ears of the werewolf noble, and vibrantly shimmering spider-crystals which pierced straight into Li pei’s very vision itself.
But more than any of the treasures, the five black-lusted arachnid eggs placed side by side stole Pei’s very next breath—he stood, lungs paralyzed; his heart seemed to pause mid-beat. Viscount-level spider-eggs? Not just one, not merely two, even… five? All in strong life signs—no one but someone who had conquered a full spider-lord’s fortress would leave bearing those spoils. That was something not even any low-level Viscount might have dreamt of accomplishing—absolutely out beyond their capacity.
Recalling the struggle to capture the lycanthrope Viscount he’d previously faced—so very dearly paid, with over ten companions lost in the effort—it felt now as if even attempting to reach an elite viscount’s lair would seem impossible.
Swallowed the thickness from his dry throat, Li Pei now turned his sights again, his breath stolen again when spotting Qian Ye still clasping that human-head-sized spider crystal. Gathering his bearing momentarily, Li’s trembling whisper asked, “That… That’s a Class-First Viscount-level spider crystal!”
Under Baron-grade status, spider-crystals all held transparent clarity, typically rated and ranked simply by size and shape, and standard Class-3 crystals seldom exceeded a closed-fist measure. But something reaching that sheer scale? Nothing below a First-Class status would be capable of achieving. In the highest elite rankings among Viscounts, this could easily qualify as the absolute pinnacle of rarity and strength together.
Eyes lifting from tea, Qian Ye offered calmly—a modest, indifferent smile— “Mere coincidence brought it to me, I must emphasize.”
This single sentence sent Li Pei’s pulse into spasmodic tremors. What reply could one make? Even a moderately strong spider Viscount elite might obliterate a dozen full forces in Li’s possession—no exaggeration here. If the Viscount had been gravely injured? To try storming his position head-on would surely end in nothing more than self-sacrifice on the foolhardy.
Add these additional five spider eggs—those could have only resulted from fully cleansing out the stronghold of a Class-First Viscount! Such a prize, if one could find, might easily prove too much, a temptation so deadly one feared to even breathe too much admiration aloud from envy. And yet—Qian Ye, who seemingly held ownership over all those? Ten Peis could gather strength and determination, and still no confidence would form enough daring to chase after those footsteps!
Silent as snow under moonshine, Qian Ye finally turned his sight to meet LiPei’s own, expressionless but intent, waiting—unspoken—for the young noble-born man’s next phrase in his struggle between composure and unease at such a meeting with destiny.
Frustrated as one with sand in the mouth, throat desert-dry with anxiety to speak—but no words followed. Finally, Pei made an executive decision of teeth on flesh, spun swiftly away as if his dignity and pride meant nothing next to what laid bare.
With that, as expected by all observers, the noble exited the floor in a flurry, visage darkened by humiliation. None among the remaining adventurers waiting below needed a scroll explaining they’d just stumbled upon some steel wall far stronger to stand compared with Pei’s noble might—sparking further fascination with exactly which enigma resided up the steps above them all.
Once Qian Ye resumed drinking, his heart now far removed, he had no desire pressing further into noble circles—he was simply not inclined.
Meanwhile, the major received the spidercrystal reverently, the radiant shimmer reflected off its surface into his eyes painfully almost causing an accidental drop from his trembling arms. In theory, each one considered individually might have brought some admiration and stunned reverence. But together? The impact was utterly overwhelming with its implications.
Once that piece had been safely delegated and catalogued among the other items by subordinates, the major re-joined their honored guest once again, respectfully inquiring—“Your Honor… what way precisely shall all these Merits officially reflect in documentation format?”
“Yoo-Kuu Marquis and Mistress Zhao Yuying’s line specifically,” replied Qian Ye with casual certainty.
Instant clarity lit upon the major’s brow. He hastily obeyed with renewed urgency as the most esteemed familial branch of Clan Zhao—one with no question over who received ultimate merit. Although he hadn’t known how the senior commander of this expedition had secured such privileged access into Zhao influence… he must have been operating quite literally in the shadows beside one of the top echelons of the Clan itself, to have so much weighty merit entrusted solely through his hands.
It was no exaggeration to conclude the sky-high future prospects for this officer, a future shimmering far further than could yet be imagined.
Finally, the results of these battlefield accounts were ready to announce—the final sum was now upon their hands. A certain tall female officer, clad formally though accenting figure well read into her uniform, began recitation—
“One Marquis Class First. One Marquis Class Two, 12 Viscounts Class Third, with 413 additional sub-Viscount ranked adversaries eliminated entirely in this battle record.” After a pause—”Please, let Your Honor inspect these totals for confirmation.”
Despite previous expectations, these overwhelming statistics left even the most veteran listeners breathless from pure weight of their impact. This numerical measure transformed, as if alchemy upon gold itself, into a massive material payoff. Entire shelves of advanced firearms and crate after crate of the famed Black Crystals waited at the conclusion of all such rewards. In fact, this single haul would surpass all past daily totals in the bureau’s decade-long history.
With painstaking care, the major double-checked the verified numbers repeatedly before proceeding to finalize the report in official form: recorded in a silvery-white metal tablet plate engraved with runic sequences, each one the size of an adult palm—a sacred medium in official use. Moments after initiating the final transfer within the tablet, runes flared, and the official record sealed forever as a completed transaction—one Qian Ye received alone. Whereas smaller figures merited no more fanfare than paper slips promising later redemption on fixed-value chits for later purchase—a system utterly anonymous and indifferent as if tossing coins through the void between worlds.
Customarily, the officer in charge usually reserved a small cut as personal profits, an age-old unspoken rule. The gesture was implied subtly by Qian Ye’s demeanor already. Yet so staggering was this amount’s potential to invite deathly danger that the Major declined in most solemn tones—firmly asserting his incorruptibility compared so very badly against those of Lord Shao Shan’s personal private troops whose reputation was less… honorable? Qian Ye had met this refusal warmly, smiling faintly though never saying another word on the matter either way.
When finished with the proceedings—hands rubbing briskly against one another for warmth or nerves, it was unclear—the Major turned toward Qian Ye in anticipation, inquiring gently but eagerly, “M’Lord, are these credits to be stored away for a future point in time or claimed against our inventory for physical delivery?”
After contemplation, Qian Ye requested writing utensils and a sheet and proceeded writing a detailed list. Passing to the waiting officer, he spoke, his tone quiet but decisive—”Proceed strictly per this list.”
The list detailed four level-five firearm pieces; ten of level-four calibrate models; thirty sets of Class-2 combat armor en masse, a wealth of solid-matter power rounds charged directly with latent energy, the rest exchanged purely en black energy crystals intended for personal martial cultivation energy usage in training.
The list stripped almost half their stored inventory bare with swift decisiveness—an order of magnitude no one anticipated being placed.
With swift professionalism, commands followed. Then another thought arose as the major asked anxiously—if it was his responsibility at least—”Would you require an escorted detail for transport security as you depart?”
The Major struck his own forehead upon witnessing Qian Ye’s brief head-negative dismissal. Then he chuckled aloud with realization at his mistake—”Indeed, how could anyone dare attempt a theft against YOUR shipment? That’d be tantamount not theft… not ambush—it’s nothing but foolish suicide plain and simple.”
Within the hour that followed—the transaction concluded—Qian Ye began to leave. Behind his vehicle’s back cargo area sat his acquisitions fully packed: an overwhelming collection indeed… worth enough to make even a seasoned financier weep for the staggering potential profit lost in its sheer weight of material. Qian Ye himself nearly questioned reality—it all seemed far too generous by imperial standards… but his mind remained still on the other side—the Zhao family inheritance he had anticipated far more intensely. Whatever treasures clans kept stored deep within ancestral vaults to stimulate the ambitions of their youth? Those surely belonged to another tier of worth entirely.
No sooner had Qian Ye begun departure than another courier, bearing a specially-enchanted silver tablet with embedded runes—a record of said achievements, was dispatched via high-speed floating airship directly upward from where he’d transacted toward the expeditionary headquarters miles in the direction of a distant sky horizon line.
Merely half-a-day after that delivery, that exact silvery tablet lay at the destination coordinates. Within the heartland war-room, already an entire enormous runic framework installation filled its very main hall in entirety. Drawing energy from no fewer than six separate central towers, four among them dedicated continuously for sustained operations—supplemented additionally by black crystal energy packs stored into central core components for even stronger runic amplification.
After being examined, re-verified through security layers, the silver tablet slotted into place, its data transferred at once into the great runic circle.
And above, the penthouse chamber of HQ—converted from any formal military function—now bore projections cast onto massive translucent displays revealing in radiant script columns of battlefield merit statistics cascading from one point to another across regions in real-time. Ultimately collected in full within each day’s data, all across the great Meridian battlefront, before transmitting by scheduled aether-flight deliveries across imperial regions: Westland, Yoeland, Eastland… ultimately to be read directly in the Imperial Capital. The data’s flow, though stretched over distances measured in light-years, still only resulted in less than a one-full-Earth-day latency window back to homeland shores. Not bad by any normal expectation.
Similarly enchanted view-casters not present only in expedition-command headquarters—each Imperial great house and high noble lineage’s private data centers shared similar installations, the only differences coming from maintenance cost responsibility placed at their own respective expenses. Previously, these had cost immense amounts annually, until Empress Yuhua decreed that her coffers bear precisely 50% financial responsibility—thus lifting the previously financially-challenging upper-level nobility alongside financially robust minor noble bloodlines into participation within this great strategic oversight structure.
The high chamber held double-floor structure, one within which a group—several of Empire’s most formidable men stood watching this moment’s shifting data across radiant panels above:
Duke Dingtiguo, Duke Weiguo, Marquis Luomingji—Head General of the Whole Expeditionary Force… with Vice Commanders Shao Lingshi and Yang Shuo rounding the circle. Collectively, every male here belonged firmly to military legend ranks; a vision so formidable had enemy spies chanced discovery from within, their immediate transmission orders wouldn’t include any message less than this terrifying truth—
All of these military giants, assembled together simultaneously at one location—
And so it went: the live battle merits feed shifting continuously, updating their battlefield positions, their exact origins highlighted vividly on the war-map mural which covered an entire side length across that wall in full scale detail.
As his gaze swept across one shifting segment, Weidungong’s voice suddenly bore undertones, layered with insight—”Even these last several past nights we’d still occasionally spot rising names appearing for no clear background history or notable family origins… but just now—take a look. All present within upper positions upon all merit lists now seem… familiar in some way… belonging only to great ancestral bloodlines.”
He added reflectively, tone growing heavier still—“Clearly—noble dynasties still stand as this Empire’s very bones itself. Not a bone that should ever break in this framework lest this world itself fall into collapse.”
Dungtigong gave an approving nod too, offering—”Truer words, friend—you speak, yes. That sentiment… indeed. It bears reminding me: it would perhaps be possible—improbable, yes—I concede, it might be possible someday to imagine an empire without a ruling Emperor… but to imagine a single day without our noble Houses… that we simply cannot fathom. Haha… impossible… never.”
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