Chương 270: 270：A Continent in Uproar

The Holy Halycon Empire, the Imperial Capital. High upon the soaring, vaulted ceilings of the supreme throne room, the Sacred Sun Crest—meticulously pieced together from iridescent stained glass—filtered the pale winter sunlight into an aura of absolute, overawing majesty. Upon the smooth, obsidian floor, braziers burned rare, exorbitantly expensive southern ambergris.

Coils of white, fragrant smoke drifted leisurely through the air, adding an enigmatic, unfathomable depth to the absolute center of the Empire's power.

"Your Imperial Majesty." Grand Duke Valentine, the Supreme Commander of the Empire's Northern Front, stood respectfully at the base of the golden, tiered dais. In his hands, he held dozens of the latest mainstream gazettes, published by various printing houses across different nations. He presented them entirely to the man sitting atop the towering imperial throne. The Emperor of the Holy Halycon Empire.

This sovereign, a man nearing fifty with razor-sharp, chiseled features that radiated iron will, casually flipped through the gazettes on his desk. As he read, his eyes betrayed a profound, undisguised mixture of admiration and profound shock.

"Valentine, it seems that girl Lucia's pen grows sharper by the day."

"But what is far sharper... is this young man named Soren." The Emperor stood up. Draped in a magnificent, gold-threaded violet robe, he slowly descended the jade steps.

"Your Majesty's judgment is as piercing as ever," Grand Duke Valentine offered a deep, respectful bow.

"Lord Soren did not merely shatter Shadow Priest Zagar's assassination attempt against me. He backed it up with the total, undeniable annihilation of an Orc Oracle and his elite guards."

"Ever since Lucia's article was published, the recruitment offices across the Empire's northern provinces have been flooded! In just half a day, the number of hot-blooded youths enlisting has exceeded our entire quota for the past month!"

"Broadcasting victories will certainly ignite a temporary surge in morale." The Emperor shook his head. Raising a hand adorned with a massive emerald signet ring, he tapped heavily on the paragraph in the gazette detailing the 'Lifelong Pension Guarantee'.

"But what truly shocked me... what actually birthed a sliver of genuine jealousy in my heart... is this system." The Emperor's gaze seemed to pierce through the parchment, seeing straight into the rotting, terminal illness afflicting all the ancient human empires:"Why do the low-ranking soldiers cower and falter on the front lines? Because in this chaotic era, human lives are treated as cheap as dirt."

"The moment they are crippled, they are cast aside to become miserable beggars rotting in the streets. Their wives, children, and elderly parents are left to starve to death."

"Valentine, you and I both know the ugly truth. The national treasuries of every kingdom have long been bled dry by greedy nobles. Even the meager bereavement funds are embezzled at every level of command. Who has the coin to feed men who have lost their combat value?" The Emperor let out a long, heavy sigh, a brilliant light igniting in his eyes:"But Soren actually did it! He is willing to expend oceans of military supplies and food to provide a lifelong safety net for the crippled and disabled!"

"This kind of psychological cohesion is infinitely more powerful than any magical battle array! When a soldier knows that even if he is maimed or killed, his general will provide for his family for the rest of their lives... then that army on the battlefield will transform into a ravenous, entirely fearless pack of wolves!" Listening to this, cold sweat began to bead on the Grand Duke's forehead as he instantly grasped the terrifying, continent-spanning strategic ramifications.

"Your Majesty speaks the absolute truth. This guarantee system has entirely shattered the psychological defenses of the common soldiers across the alliance. The overwhelming resonance it has triggered will undoubtedly draw desperate heroes and veterans from across the entire continent straight to the Misty Swamp."

"It's more than just buying hearts and minds, Valentine. Look at this section." The Emperor's lips curled into a profound, highly meaningful smile as he flipped the gazette to another page.

"In this interview, Soren publicly discloses to the entire continent that Mogg—the direct nephew of the Blood Province Governor—attempted to surrender right before he died. And worse, that he sold out the exact coordinates of Shadow Priest Zagar!" The Emperor narrowed his eyes, his gaze terrifyingly sharp.

"Brilliant! An absolutely masterful stroke of psychological warfare!" The Emperor couldn't help but clap his hands and laugh aloud. His laughter was brimming with the purest appreciation for a generational tactical genius.

"The Orc Alliance has never been a monolithic entity."

"Warchief Blackstone commands the absolute military might. The Governor of the Blood Province controls the regional territories. And Zagar of the Spire of Shadows commands their enigmatic, magical forces. They each represent the fiercely competing interests of different clans."

The Emperor's mind rapidly modeled the apocalyptic fallout this single piece of intelligence would cause within the enemy ranks, breaking it down for the Grand Duke:"By weaponizing this gazette to broadcast that statement, Soren has just planted a massive, festering seed of paranoia at the very highest echelons of the Orc leadership!"

"Zagar sustained catastrophic injuries during his failed assassination attempt against you. How do you think he will react when he reads this report? He will absolutely suspect that his entire operation failed because Mogg leaked the intel!"

"And how is the Blood Province Governor supposed to explain his own nephew's dying betrayal to the Spire of Shadows?!"

"This is a venomous, lethal dagger thrust straight into the heart of the Orc Alliance! A Machiavellian scheme designed entirely to fracture the trust between their supreme commanders and ignite a bloody, internal clan war!" The Emperor let out a long, slow breath. Returning to the base of his throne, he gazed deeply toward the northern horizon. The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

"He possesses overwhelming martial prowess. He understands the art of war. He has a terrifying grasp on human nature. And he has mastered the lethal, unseen blade of psychological warfare..."

"Soren... The Silvermoon Kingdom has truly produced a generational talent... one that even I am tempted to recruit under my own banner." At the exact same time. The Silvermoon Kingdom, the Royal Capital, the Estate of the Prince Regent. Unlike the grandiose, majestic openness of the Holy Halycon Emperor's throne room, this secret chamber hidden deep within the Prince Regent's estate felt suffocating. The doors and windows were tightly sealed shut behind thick, dark red velvet drapes.

The fireplace burned fiercely, turning the air inside stiflingly hot and oppressive.

"How dare he?! How dare he make such an earth-shattering commotion?!" The actual ruler of the kingdom, His Royal Highness the Prince Regent, wore a face contorted in absolute, unadulterated fury. His usually impeccably maintained, aristocratic features were twitching uncontrollably, ravaged by a toxic mix of wrath and paralyzing fear. He violently snatched the stack of gazettes containing Lucia's exclusive interview and ripped them to shreds.

Countless pieces of white confetti danced erratically in the sweltering, airless room. Sitting on the left side of the long mahogany table, Duke Fernando's expression was incredibly grim. This veteran noble, famous across the capital for his deep, Machiavellian cunning, was currently gripping an unlit cigar so tightly it was snapping in half. On the right side of the table sat Viscount Blake—the very man who had secretly colluded with the Orcs and attempted to sell out the border defense maps to save his own skin.

Right now, he was clutching a silk handkerchief, frantically wiping the continuous streams of cold sweat rolling down his forehead. They had all read the exclusive interview that was currently shaking the entire continent. But unlike the jubilant celebrations of the commoners in the streets, this secret chamber was completely saturated with a profound, suffocating dread.

"Your Highness... we... we underestimated him. We vastly, horribly underestimated him." Viscount Blake's voice choked with genuine terror. He was absolutely terrified. He knew Soren's methods better than anyone. Soren showed zero tolerance for betrayal; his policy toward traitors was absolute, merciless extermination. Now that Soren's prestige had skyrocketed to the heavens, if he ever decided to turn his sights backward and settle old scores... Blake would be the very first head to roll.

"He didn't just survive the Misty Swamp... he actually won! And the sheer military might he now controls, combined with the flood of exiled armed forces flocking to him because of that damn pension system..." Blake swallowed hard.

"Greywater Village is no longer some insignificant, backwater blip on the map. It is rapidly metastasizing into a terrifyingly dangerous, massively powerful military faction!"

"Shut your mouth! Do you think I can't see that?!" The Prince Regent violently spun around, crossing his arms fiercely over his chest.

"Initially, to prevent him from using his military merits to operate as an independent warlord and defy my orders, we deliberately refused to grant him a single coin or supply cart of tangible reward!"

"To shackle him legally, I intentionally bestowed upon him the empty, meaningless title of Deputy Border Commander! And I explicitly forced him to sign that suicidal military pledge to reclaim the entirety of the Misty Swamp within a single year!"

"We thought it was a flawless scheme to send him to his death!" The more the Prince Regent spoke, the more a chilling, creeping horror gripped his heart:"But look at him now! That bastard took the empty title I gave him, flipped the board, and is using it to completely legally and rightfully annex armed forces behind enemy lines!"

"He even spearheaded an alliance between Ironwood Fortress and the Crimson Moon main camp, forging some ridiculous, untouchable Four-Point Defensive Alliance!"

"The death trap I laid for him has actually become his absolute political mandate! It is his shield to carve out his own sovereign territory on this continent and swallow up military power right under our noses!" Beside him, Duke Fernando finally tossed the thoroughly ruined cigar onto the table, exhaling a long, heavy breath of foul air. As a master manipulator of the royal court, the Duke saw perfectly through the inescapable, checkmate scenario the capital's high command was currently trapped in.

"Your Highness, at this point, throwing a tantrum will accomplish absolutely nothing." Duke Fernando slowly stood up, his gaze locked onto the shredded gazettes littering the floor.

"Soren now wields unprecedented, continent-wide prestige and formidable, tangible military might. Lucia's article isn't just the Holy Halycon Empire secretly fanning the flames to support him... it represents the absolute shift of the people's will across the entire continent." The Duke's blunt, clinical analysis brutally punctured the last remaining illusions in the room:"He is now the hero of all humanity. He is the spiritual pillar of the resistance against the Orcs."

"If we forcefully use military law to suppress him right now... even if we try to use that military pledge to convict him... the commoners of the Silvermoon Kingdom, the low-ranking soldiers, and even a massive portion of the noble generals loyal to the defensive line... they will instantly ignite a catastrophic mutiny! They will march on the capital and burn our estates to ashes!"

"So what do we do?! Just let him sit in the north and grow into a behemoth?!" Viscount Blake shrieked, his voice cracking with panic.

"When he completely conquers the Misty Swamp and finally marches his forces south... that ravenous army of wolves that holds absolutely zero respect for the nobility, an army that answers only to Soren himself... they will drag us into the streets and hang every single one of us!" The secret chamber plunged into a long, suffocating, deathly silence. The only sound remaining was the violent, erratic popping and cracking of the burning logs inside the fireplace.