Chapter Seven: Western Hezhou

The Xuanlu Republic—a name she had never heard before. At the very least, none of the surface world’s empires, kingdoms, or duchies bore such a title. Most striking was the term “republic” itself, which was entirely unfamiliar; nearly all nations aboveground ended with “empire” or “kingdom.” Even duchies, to be precise, were not true countries but merely the domains of grand dukes.

“Republic…” Aimeya awkwardly repeated the alien word, her pronunciation growing clearer with each attempt.

A republic—a country that does not belong to any one person or class, but to all citizens, a public entity.

Could such a nation truly exist?

Aimeya was deeply skeptical. Even the High Elves, who had abolished hereditary monarchy, required the selection of a supreme king to govern their lands—let alone the greedy, unpredictable humans.

Yet, through the psychic link, Aimeya could genuinely sense how incredible this so-called republic was, as well as the confidence and pride the person before her held for their homeland.

Could humanity truly possess such lofty virtues, to build a nation that belonged to all? Was an ideal country, one for which everyone strove, indeed possible?

No—perhaps only the higher races among humans could have accomplished such a feat.

After all, they had left behind so many miracles. Perhaps only they could have established such an impossible utopia.

“I have never heard of such a nation,” Aimeya said, shaking her head.

Qin Le replied, “That’s not surprising. Until now, we did not know of your existence either, nor have we ever set foot upon this land.”

Never set foot here? Then why did so many ancient ruins record their presence?

Aimeya longed to ask directly, to confirm whether these people were indeed the advanced race she suspected—but in the end, she restrained herself. After all, they were strangers. Prying too deeply might provoke displeasure.

She changed the subject: “Why have you come here?”

“To seek resources and development. In simple terms, we hope to obtain more resources from this place. But you needn’t worry—the Republic is a peaceful nation. We strongly prefer trade over conflict,” Qin Le answered, then posed a question of his own. “Could you tell us where exactly we are?”

“This is Western Hezhou, in the Kingdom of Dawn…” Aimeya responded.

Qin Le proceeded with a barrage of inquiries, all of which Aimeya answered with remarkable cooperation—so much so that he began to doubt the veracity of the information.

Western Hezhou—currently, the known world in its entirety.

The mighty nations included the Roff Human Empire, Victoria Elven Empire, Giant Alliance, Steelfire Dwarven Kingdom, Dragon’s Lair, and Deep Blue Merfolk Empire.

Dominant faiths shaping society included the Holy Light Church, Night Church, Wise Brotherhood, Earth Mother Church, Solar Cult, and War Church.

Some religions were closely tied to empires: the Victoria Elven Kingdom with the Earth Mother Church, the Giant Alliance with the War Church.

Supernatural powers existed in this world—magic and martial arts. These two forms of extraordinary power were much like the magic and battle energy from Qin Le’s previous life: one used by mages, the other by warriors.

The source that drove both was known as “Qi”—a mysterious force present everywhere. Since the other side conveyed only a single syllable, Qin Le could only translate it as “Qi” from memory. In essence, it was magic power, but it seemed more akin to the life force one breathes into the body.

They were presently in the Kingdom of Dawn, a human realm dependent on the Roff Empire, considered moderately strong—a county under the rule of an earl.

The noble-looking blonde knight maiden was named Orina—the ninth princess of this kingdom, and already a viscount in her own right, with land to her name.

After listening, Qin Le bowed slightly. “Thank you for your answers. Is there anything we might do for you?”

Aimeya’s attitude was exceedingly sincere—at least on the surface, she was fully cooperative, offering them a glimpse of this new world’s outline. For the exploration mission, this was a major breakthrough. Perhaps it was gratitude for their rescue, or perhaps a result of their obvious martial prowess; in any case, Qin Le acknowledged the favor.

And right now, they needed a guide—this communicative elf was the ideal choice. The princess at her side might even serve as a bridge for negotiations with the Kingdom of Dawn.

A hint of delight appeared on Aimeya’s face. “We are currently being pursued by unknown enemies. If possible, please escort us back to Viscount’s Ridge.”

“No problem,” Qin Le agreed.

Conveniently, they too needed a temporary base, and they also wished to obtain knowledge of how to wield supernatural powers.

Due to black-technology human experimentation from the imperial era, the scouts’ bodies had been pushed to the very limits of human capacity—some even surpassing those limits. For example, Iron Fist had broken through the normal human threshold for strength. Yet no matter how powerful, scouts remained only human.

They could not alter the fate of a war on a grand scale, much less determine its outcome.

Individual strength had reached its ceiling. As technology and weaponry advanced, the importance of the single soldier diminished on the battlefield. Supernatural powers might check that trend, allowing the Republic to retain an ace up its sleeve for the future.

…

Night fell, and on the lawn outside the tower, a bonfire blazed.

The exploration team produced their rations—the latest self-heating meals developed over the past few years. Once, compressed biscuits were the iconic field food, now relegated to emergency use; day-to-day, the self-heating packs prevailed.

Orina and Aimeya each received a portion of dinner—unlike anything they had ever tasted.

Military Self-Heating Meal No. 18: Minced Meat and Ham Rice.

The two gazed in amazement at the steaming plastic pouches before them, their expressions perfectly mirroring one another’s curiosity and astonishment.

After fifteen minutes, Iron Fist helped portion the hot rice into plastic bowls—each grain a glossy golden brown, the fat glistening temptingly in the firelight.

Orina, holding spoon and bowl, carefully scooped up a spoonful and tasted it.

“Well?” Aimeya asked eagerly.

“It’s… it’s delicious!” Orina was instantly overwhelmed by the delicate savory flavor, her eyes narrowing in bliss, a satisfied smile on her lips.

As a princess, she had eaten her share of lavish dishes, but never anything so delectable. This was no simple salt or sweetness, but a complex, indescribably delicious taste—impossible to put into words.

“Is it really that good?” Aimeya, driven by curiosity, sampled a mouthful—and was likewise conquered, bowing her head to eat with gusto.

Compared to the two women, the rest of the team were far more composed.

The array of spices and seasonings produced by industrial civilization amounted to a dimensional strike against ancient societies.

After dinner, Qin Le and Iron Fist carried the man in black into the tower, opened the door, and returned him to the bunker.

When they emerged, Aimeya noticed the man in black was nowhere to be seen. The large fellow now carried a peculiar, perfectly square box.

Killed him? Then why bother treating their wounds before?

If they intended to kill, they could have done so from the start—why waste what appeared to be precious medicine on these thieves?

She was filled with questions but did not voice them.

Qin Le noticed her suspicion but said nothing, nor did he explain. There was an unspoken understanding among them.

He had no intention of hiding the door’s existence forever; on the contrary, once the time was right, he would reveal their teleportation ability—but never let outsiders see or fully understand the door itself.

Teleportation was a deterrent in its own right. Until someone grasped the truth, no one would dare challenge a group capable of such feats—unless they could withstand the ensuing, unpredictable retaliation.

…

Xuanlu, First Military District.

In a brightly lit room, the leader of the men in black sat in a chair, his face drawn with fear as he surveyed his surroundings.

Three mysterious figures in white robes sat before him—their features reminiscent of those “demons” he’d seen before: black hair, black eyes.

Where was this place? Who were these people? Why was he here?

Both his legs had been shattered by bullets, leaving him virtually helpless—a weakness that only deepened his anxiety.

“We know you can’t understand our words, but if you wish to avoid suffering, you’d better cooperate.” One researcher held up a piece of paper covered in unfamiliar writing.

It bore the script Aimeya had penned, essentially instructing him to cooperate and speak the names of objects shown to him.

“What is this?” The researcher placed a stone before him.

“Stone.” The foreign word left the man’s lips as the recorder captured his speech.

“Next.”

“Leaf.”

“Next.”

“Flower.”

The mechanical rhythm of questions and answers echoed through the room.

To ensure accuracy, each item would reappear several times at intervals. Should the prisoner refuse, the chair beneath him delivered a jolt of electricity as reminder.

…

Elsewhere, another man in black lay upon an operating table—stripped, unconscious.

Around him, personnel in protective suits wielded various tools, slowly dissecting, observing, then suturing him up again.

“These legs are beyond saving. Saw, please—I need to amputate.”

“Yes, doctor.”

“Shall we open the skull?”

“It’s risky. Better not. A live specimen is more valuable than a corpse.”

“Doctor, his heart rate is rising—the anesthesia may be wearing off.”

“Increase the dosage.”

The scalpel sliced, revealing a beating heart—a sight that turned everyone’s face pale.

It was a vivid red heart, and a writhing black worm emerged from within, winding around the organ like a blood vessel.

“What in the world…”

“Don’t just stand there—take a picture!” barked the lead surgeon, first to recover.

“Yes, doctor.”

…