Are You Guys from the Azure Dragon Division Vegetarians

Behind him, it had gone quiet, leaving only the fine, dense sound of a carving knife scraping against stone. After a while, a young apprentice timidly raised a waterskin and handed it to Cui Yuan. Cui Yuan took it and took a swig, without saying thanks—only a single remark:

"The next array plate's talisman-solution ratio needs another 30 percent more spirit-stone powder. I checked the previous attrition data—the corrosions in the South Sea are far more insidious than inland ones. The original mix won't hold."

"Yes, sir." The apprentice scurried off to relay the order.

The ratio of the talisman solution was wrong—Cui Yuan had discovered this while clearing the cracks in the city wall.

Inside the stone bricks eroded by the corrosions, invisible black filaments remained, and those filaments would not fully dissolve in a talisman solution where the spirit-stone powder concentration was too weak—they could only be temporarily subdued.

When the grand formation was reactivated and spiritual energy was injected into the array plates, the dormant corruption residue would reactivate, corroding the entire array foundation from within.

Cui Yuan wrote this up as a memorial and sent it to Wang Hao's desk that very night. After reading it, Wang Hao approved it with four characters: "Change it. Do as you say."

Beneath those four characters he added a line of small script—"Allocate three thousand catties of spirit-stone powder. If that's not enough, add more. Take however much you need."

Three thousand catties of spirit-stone powder—market price, one hundred million spirit stones.

When Cui Yuan received the approval, he stood stunned for a long time, then carefully folded the paper and tucked it into his robe, then went back to crouching over the stone bricks to carve the array plates.

The apprentice working next to him asked what he was staring at. He said he was looking at the little line of script the Emperor had written—ugly handwriting, truly.

At the harbor, the naval shipwrights were likewise working around the clock. The less severely damaged warships were repaired directly at sea—craftsmen sat in hanging baskets suspended over the ship's sides, hammering and patching the cracks in the hulls.

Rune cannon barrels that were beyond repair had to be replaced entirely—that was the most time-consuming work. From dismantling to reinstallation took at least three days per barrel, and the number of barrels needing replacement at Zhennan Pass was two hundred forty-seven.

Han Shanyue's iron prosthetic leg clanked across the deck. Leaning on his crutch, he stood at the bow of the flagship, pointing his remaining hand at the craftsmen and cursing their mothers:

"Three days for one cannon barrel? Last month up on the Northern Frontier, I was swapping two barrels in two days! Are you little bastards dogging it?"

The craftsmen cringed and dared not speak. Finally, the deputy general behind Han Shanyue couldn't hold back and reminded him: "General, the Northern Frontier cannons are Grade-4 rune cannons. The South Sea batch are new-model Grade-5 cannons—their barrel engravings are three times denser than the Northern ones."

Han Shanyue froze for a moment, then became even more indignant: "Then tell the Ministry of Works to ship the Northern Frontier cannons down here! Whatever grade they are, a gun that fires is a good gun! Send a batch to hold the line first. Let the new ones be built at their own pace; the old ones will cover in the interim!"

No sooner said than done—he wrote the official dispatch that very day and sent a courier to the capital.

Something that blatantly went against standard military requisition procedure was simple common sense for him—after all, His Majesty had said all resources for the South Sea defense line take priority for distribution, and with that order, he'd never fear having the request denied.

After sending the dispatch, he hobbled off on his crutch to inspect ammunition stores, driving the navy's quartermaster to the verge of a breakdown.

"Your Majesty!" The quartermaster came running with a face like a mourner to lodge a complaint,

"Governor Han stripped the spare cannon barrels from the East Sea Fleet, says he's mounting them on his own flagship first—the East Sea Fleet's ships are barely half their original strength, and the other half are still in repair. He's robbing Peter to pay Paul!"

Wang Hao was up on the watchtower, reviewing the re-check report on casualty figures, and didn't even raise his head: "Let him take them. I'll see a new batch of cannon barrels allocated to the East Sea Fleet later. And have the old barrels he stripped sent to the Ministry of Works to be remelted."

The quartermaster opened his mouth, but ultimately squeezed out only three words: "...Your servant obeys." As he turned to leave, he heard Wang Hao let out a cold laugh at the document in his hands—that laugh sent a chill down his spine, and his steps unconsciously quickened.

After the quartermaster left, Wang Hao handed the classified report to Wei Zhongxian. It came from the intelligence network of the Dark City—only a few lines of text, and yet they drew the warmth out of Wang Hao's smile.

The Sixteen Holy Lands of the Central Plains had convened their second emergency meeting.

Supreme Elder Li Cangming of the Chixiao Holy Land had recovered from his wounds and emerged from seclusion; while his cultivation had not returned to its peak, he was able to preside over matters once more.

First resolution of the meeting: The Sixteen Holy Lands would pin the blame for the dismantling of the South Sea Suppression Array squarely on the Eastern Wasteland, declaring that "Wang Hao's annexation of the Dark City triggered the wrath of Heaven, causing the South Sea corrosions to spiral out of control." Second resolution: Within three months, the Sixteen Holy Lands would launch a joint expedition, taking advantage of the mutual attrition between Wang Hao and the corrosions to recapture the Dark City, reclaim the seventeen spirit-stone mines abandoned on the outer edges of the Central Plains, and if the Eastern Wasteland had already occupied those mines, they would take them back by force.

"Shameless." Wei Zhongxian's face was expressionless as he offered a two-character verdict.

"No." Wang Hao tossed the report onto the table, leaning back in his chair with a cold smirk on his lips,

"This is clever. I just fought a battle against a half-step tier-ten corruption, and my true qi has been drained more than halfway. The cracks on my martial-god foundation haven't fully healed yet. Zhennan Pass is a wreck being rebuilt from the ground up, and my army is exhausted—in Li Cangming's eyes, I'm a crab that just shed its shell. If you don't take a bite now, when would you? Three months—that old bastard really planned this precisely, choosing exactly when I'm at my weakest."

He paused, holding up three fingers:

"First, send word to Xiao Chen. Have him take thirty elite battalions drawn from the western expedition army and set out from the Dark City to seize those seventeen spirit-stone mines abandoned by the Central Plains. Leave at least one battalion as garrison at each mine, and have the fortifications built to grade nine or higher. Second, send word to the Demon Lord—accelerate the organization of the Dark Legion. I don't care what methods he uses, but within two months he will train a hundred thousand elite troops into a field army capable of fighting hard battles. Third—"

He turned his gaze to Wei Zhongxian, and his smile gained a sharper edge: "Send word to Holy King Canglong. He still owes me an apology. Now is the time for him to pay it back."

The situation among the demonic clans of the Southern Frontier finally stirred on the seventh day after the corruption tide had receded.

An envoy from Holy King Canglong had arrived.

He was a tall demonic clan member draped in teal scales. His human-form face looked to be in his early forties, and a single azure dragon horn grew from the center of his forehead—it was Ao Qing, the grand elder of the Canglong clan, the biological uncle of Holy King Canglong.

When Ao Qing entered Zhennan Pass, Wang Hao was up on the city wall watching Cui Yuan repair the array plates.

He deliberately did not go down to receive the envoy—he left the man waiting on the city wall for more than an hour, until Cui Yuan finished carving the third array plate, and only then slowly made his way down the tower.

When the atmosphere in the meeting hall was just about to congeal into ice, Wang Hao walked in from the side door, a bowl of porridge in one hand, sipping as he walked.

"Your Majesty," Ao Qing forced down his displeasure, rising to clasp his fists in salute, "Holy King Canglong has sent me—" He was just about to read aloud the state letter when Wang Hao raised a hand to cut him off.

"Porridge? The imperial kitchen just made it—meat porridge, extra salt." Wang Hao sat down at the table, stirred the porridge with his spoon, and looked up at Ao Qing,

"Oh, right—your Canglong clan are vegetarians, aren't you? Never mind, then. I'll drink it myself. Go on—what did your Holy King send you here for?"