Chapter 24: Operation Draw the Sword

South of the Orlina Domain, along the wide imperial highway, countless merchant caravans came and went, stretching as far as the eye could see across endless wheat fields, with knights maintaining order and great rivers winding through the land—all finally converging upon a colossal city.

Dawn Royal Capital—a city sprawling across six thousand square kilometers. It was the heart of the kingdom’s economy, politics, and military, home to millions of people and a great number of extraordinary individuals.

Unlike the barren eastern lands near the Death Marsh, this fertile region yielded rapid and vigorous growth for any crop sown upon its soil.

At the very center of the capital stood the resplendent Dawn Palace, guarded by the Royal Knights—residence of the king.

Within those opulent halls, a handsome man clad in silver armor knelt on one knee upon a crimson carpet, his expression composed and courteous, exuding the poise and grace of true nobility.

This man was Alex Dawn, first prince of the Dawn Kingdom, reputed to be the most promising candidate for the throne.

Beside him stood the captain of the knights—a burly, broad-shouldered man with a tiger’s visage, clad in heavy armor.

“Your Majesty, our spies report the rumors are true. In the east, there is indeed a group of humans riding iron beasts. Count Dynar is cooperating with them, sending waves of commoners to Orlina,” Alex Dawn said, lifting his gaze slightly.

At the end of the red carpet stood a throne of pure gold. Before it rested a golden holy sword, and behind it, shrouded in shadow, sat the king—his face obscured.

“Moreover, these humans are as the rumors claim: black hair, black eyes.”

“High Humans…” a hoarse voice rasped from the shadows, before being wracked by a fit of violent coughing.

“Cough! Cough! Cough!”

“Your Majesty!”

“Father!”

Both the captain and Alex Dawn started forward in alarm, but were immediately halted by an invisible force.

“I am fine. Continue,” the king’s voice was now weak—his rumored illness clearly not unfounded.

“Yes,” Alex Dawn continued, “These people seem to have formed some alliance with Princess Orlina, constructing all manner of strange buildings in her lands. They also provide the commoners with abundant food—something as white as snow.”

“Orlina… Orlina…” the king repeated the name of the daughter he had banished from the capital.

“How is Orlina faring now?”

Alex Dawn’s eyes darkened as he bowed his head. “Princess Orlina, in the past year and a half, is as she was in the capital—mingling daily with lowborn rabble, showing no sign of repentance.”

The king was silent for several moments before rasping, “You may go.”

“Yes.” Alex Dawn turned and headed for the doors. As he was about to leave, the king’s hoarse voice echoed behind him.

“My son, before I die, I do not wish to see you dead. I still love you—this is the last time.”

Before the throne, the Dawn Sword shimmered with a faint golden light. Alex Dawn’s heart leapt violently, cold sweat pricking his back.

He paused, his face turning ashen, eyes filling with terror, and at last he left the hall. As soon as he stepped outside, he quickened his pace, fleeing the palace almost in panic.

Once only the captain remained, the king emerged from the shadows.

His pale golden hair gleamed dully, his complexion bloodless as a vampire’s, eyes sunken and aglow with a strange light.

Coughing harshly into a withered hand stained crimson, the king struggled to compose himself.

“Your Majesty, is your body all right?” the captain asked anxiously.

“I’m fine. Not dead yet.” The king waved him off, though his palm was slick with fresh blood.

“What rank has Orlina achieved now?”

“According to reports from the maids, Princess Orlina has reached the pinnacle of the Third Tier,” the captain replied.

“Third Tier at only seventeen years old—excellent! Hahaha! Splendid!” The king’s laughter quickly dissolved into another fit of coughing.

“Summon Orlina home. Prepare for the royal selection. My days are numbered.”

The captain hesitated, concern in his voice. “Your Majesty, do you mean to pass the throne to Princess Orlina? The Ninth Princess has no powerful kin. If she ascends, the other lords will surely object.”

Traditionally, every king of Dawn was backed by powerful noble kindred. Queens were always highborn, and even concubines hailed from great houses. Every prince and princess thus had noble support, but Princess Orlina was the exception.

The king’s expression grew cold. “Hmph! And if they object? In the end, might makes right. If Orlina enters the Upper Third Tier, wields the Dawn Sword, and commands the knights, none will dare defy her.”

“But your health…” the captain ventured, risking offense for the kingdom’s sake.

The king fell silent. He knew he would not survive to see that day, nor did he believe his naïve daughter could outmaneuver the cunning nobles. She, too, did not seem to understand her place.

But then he thought of his other eight children—dull, talentless, and unable to distinguish their own station, growing all too close to those so-called relatives.

If they inherited, would they bear the Dawn name, or another’s?

Suddenly, a flash of murderous intent crossed the king’s clouded eyes.

“If Orlina were the only heir left…”

The captain cut him off sharply, “Your Majesty, you must not!”

Should the king act so, he would give the other lords cause for rebellion. The day of his death could well become the day the kingdom fractured.

The king took a deep breath, then asked, “Do you believe those mysterious people are High Humans?”

“It’s possible. They are exceedingly wealthy—trading even extraordinary knowledge for gold. And it seems they plan to move against the Green Goblin King in the Death Marsh.”

“High Humans… Is Orlina’s alliance with them a blessing or a curse?” The king gazed out the tall, oval glass window at the sky, as if seeing once more the inferno of that night long ago.

…

Orlina Domain.

In just one month, the population of the territory had reached fifty thousand—most brought back by Xuanlu’s troops using trucks.

The domain, once a mere mountain village, had expanded dozens of times over. Row upon row of boxy dwellings, constructed from five massive plastic panels each, were neatly arrayed.

These “matchboxes” were the people’s homes, filled with bunks. For washing and other needs, one went to communal facilities outside.

Designed by Xuanlu to solve the housing crisis for the next decade, these “dorm boxes” were quick to build, cheap, and could house fifty people each. A hundred such boxes could be erected in a day.

Men and women were separated; children under twelve stayed with their parents.

Initially, Xuanlu expected that housing so many people together would lead to security problems. Yet, to their surprise, the commoners were astonishingly obedient—almost to a fault.

All the elaborate management policies Xuanlu’s experts had spent days crafting proved unnecessary. These people were simply too easy to govern—it almost felt unreal.

Every order issued by Xuanlu, once translated and conveyed, was scrupulously followed. Daily bathing, proper attire, use of designated toilets—all were meticulously observed.

Even newcomers swiftly learned the rules and abided by them. A few days in, and every resident knew what was expected.

As for work—if it could even be called that—the people toiled as if their lives depended on it. Their sheer effort was the reason the base had risen so swiftly.

This was not a reflection of the new world’s high civic culture, but the simple fact that only here could one eat their fill and stay warm—this was the only sanctuary.

Around the castle, no commoners were permitted to live or approach. The perimeter was guarded by heavy firepower.

Across the barren yellow earth, steel monsters sat in neat lines: Type-3 medium tanks, Sky Net-3 anti-aircraft armored vehicles, Cheetah armored cars…

They crouched like tigers in the sun, their metallic sheen gleaming coldly.

Soldiers swarmed around, performing pre-battle inspections.

At the center of the grounds, helicopters—bulky, tadpole-shaped with huge rotors above—stood ready.

Qin Le, with the original exploration team, Orlina, and Aimeia, approached one such helicopter.

Gazing at the machine, so similar to those of his previous life, Qin Le nodded. “I can’t believe they really built these.”

Helicopters had existed in prototype form before the world war, but limited technology meant they couldn’t fly far or long. These were the latest generation—fully operational.

“What is this?” Aimeia asked curiously.

“A helicopter. A flying vehicle. We’ll be taking these into the Death Marsh,” Qin Le replied casually.

Most of the Death Marsh couldn’t be traversed by armored units. Xuanlu’s plan was for the armor to cleanse the periphery of green goblins, then for elite troops in helicopters to hunt down the Green Goblin King. Finally, artillery would unleash a devastating bombardment.

A professional operation—thorough, efficient, and designed to ensure the Green Goblin King died a spectacular death.

“Helicopter—what a strange name.” Orlina grabbed the tail and lifted. The helicopter tilted slightly.

She exclaimed, “Such a heavy thing can fly?”

And you can lift something this heavy? Qin Le’s mouth twitched. “It can. There are even faster ones, but the airport isn’t ready yet.”

…

Shells loaded, ammunition full, engines roaring like beasts.

In the military trucks, soldiers sat upright, black eyes steely beneath their helmets, hands gripping the blades that would slay their foes.

“Operation Draw Sword commences—full deployment!”

The base gates swung open. The black steel beasts thundered forth.

A dark tide surged across the land, while black eagles soared above.

The earth trembled, dust billowed.

Today, Xuanlu bared its blade—ready to quash any notion of defiance.