Chapter Seventy-Two: The Containment Object

The dazzling radiance vanished, leaving behind only a chaotic encirclement. The colossal black-and-white tree had already disappeared without a trace. Only a few roots remained at the center, along with several massive, ruined, and resentful-looking boils.

A gentle breeze swept across the devastated battlefield, and all present fell silent, unconsciously lowering their weapons to gaze at the elderly man standing at the forefront, adorned in resplendent attire and wielding a great platinum sword.

In truth, everyone's attention was drawn not to the man himself, but to the Sword of Dawn he held. Its power was overwhelming—so this was the legendary Royal Arm?

Mark was the first to regain his composure. With a few swift steps, he appeared at the king’s side, bowed slightly, and asked with concern, “Has this affected your health, Your Majesty?”

Of all people, Mark, commander of the Royal Knights, was most familiar with the king’s physical condition—he was practically standing at death’s door, liable to pass away at any moment. Even with the Sword of Dawn and precious medicinal herbs sustaining him, his life was barely held together.

Even with the miraculous healing of Arcane Law, wielding the Sword of Dawn so recklessly was unthinkable. Generations of kings over the centuries had proven one thing: using the Sword of Dawn consumed the wielder’s life.

That was why, despite being only in his early sixties, the king appeared so aged—a state entirely inconsistent with a third-order Grand Knight.

“It’s nothing,” the King of Dawn replied calmly, waving his hand before turning to face the surrounding royal knights, hunter squads, and the steel behemoths hovering above.

“The evil has been thoroughly eradicated. On behalf of the kingdom, I thank you, brave warriors. In a few days, I shall hold a grand celebration in your honor.”

His voice was not loud, yet it carried across the entire royal capital.

Such ability, seemingly possessed by all high-ranking supernaturals, left the scientists of Arcane Law baffled. This mysterious energy known as qi was truly wondrous—even sound could be manipulated by it.

The nearly two-month conflict had finally come to an end, and everyone in the capital—nobles, commoners, and supernatural hunters alike—let out a collective sigh of relief.

Yet, beneath the city, the undercurrents had not subsided. Instead, they rose into even greater waves, surging more fiercely than before.

All factions realized one thing: the entire king selection had been a sham from the beginning—a grand spectacle orchestrated by the king and the Duke of the Eastern March, designed to draw out the cultists lurking in the shadows and, with the aid of various parties, eradicate them root and branch.

In the end, the king had paid no real price—losing only a slum and several tens of thousands of commoners—to dismantle a bomb that could have toppled the kingdom.

There was another revelation: the king’s condition was nowhere near as dire as they had believed. In fact, he was much better off, and the king selection had not truly begun.

…

Arcane Law, dawn.

On a certain highway leading to the Western Desert, the entire road had been cordoned off by the military. All vehicles traveling on it were forced to pull over and submit to military control.

In a truck parked off the highway, several cargo workers sat idly in their seats, making small talk out of boredom.

Two of them were burly, grizzled men with fierce demeanors, and the third was a young man in his twenties.

“I’ve been running this route for years, but I’ve never seen it locked down before. This is the only highway to the Western Desert,” the young man remarked, puzzled.

“It’s not a permanent blockade. Maybe it’ll reopen in a few hours,” one of the older men replied.

“But what’s the reason for the sudden military blockade? Could it be those foreigners invading?” the young man speculated.

At this, the other two exchanged glances, looking at him as if he were an idiot.

“Got kicked in the head by a mule, did you? The Western Desert is separated from those foreigners by the Heavenly Ridge Mountains. How could they possibly invade? And if they did, I’d be the first to reenlist and take them on myself,” one of the burly men grinned, a glint of barely concealed savagery in his eyes.

The young man shivered involuntarily but didn’t dwell on it. Instead, he asked curiously, “Uncle Ming, your son is only two, isn’t he? With your age, going to war might mean not coming back. Let us young ones go—it’s time for your generation to rest.”

“Hmph! What about my age? Back in the day, I could piss on the King of Hell’s head, and this time would be no exception. If I don’t come back, the Republic will raise him for me. As for you lot, you’re not cut out for the battlefield, and I’d rather you never had to be.”

“Uncle Ming, you’re truly a hero!”

“I’m no hero, just a rough laborer. The real heroes are named on the Martyrs’ Monument. I’m just a digger. The reason any of us can eat standing up today is thanks to the sacrifices of countless martyrs—I won’t let those sacrifices go to waste.”

Their casual banter made the time pass quickly.

After a while, they saw an enormous convoy—a full armored division, to be precise.

Steel beasts bristling with fangs thundered down the highway, escorting several massive transport vehicles. Each one was draped in black cloth, hiding everything but the cab and concealing whatever cargo they carried.

The armored division swept past, raising billowing clouds of dust—a torrent of steel. Every citizen of Arcane Law who witnessed such a sight would feel their blood stir with longing and excitement.

“Amazing! Uncle Ming, which unit is that? And what do you think they’re hauling—” The young man’s words were abruptly cut off as the burly man clapped a hand over his mouth.

The middle-aged man with a large scar on his face spoke in a low voice, “Li, forget everything you just saw. Don’t mention this to anyone—understand?”

The young man was stunned, cowed by the sudden burst of murderous intent from the usually soft-hearted Uncle Ming.

“I—I understand,” he stammered.

The other burly man, usually silent, suddenly spoke. “Wasn’t that insignia retired as a souvenir?”

They had seen it clearly: the military emblem on the shoulder of the soldier manning the machine gun, along with his familiar bearing and expression.

Uncle Ming leaned back in his seat, casting a sidelong glance at the receding armored column. “After this trip, I want to see the sergeant major—it’s been a long time.”

“Yes,” the taciturn man nodded slightly. “And the others who stayed in the service.”

…

In the Northern Desert, the armored division rolled into a secret military base.

The black cloth over the giant transport vehicles was removed, revealing their massive, silvery frames, etched with all manner of cryptic runes.

Most astonishing of all, these runes seemed to emit a faint glow.

Under the supervision of scientists in protective suits, the first transport’s door slowly opened, revealing a layer of reinforced glass. Behind the glass were rows of strange white orbs—boils, or perhaps cysts.

After confirming that there were no abnormalities, the scientists closed the vehicle again and drove it into the underground research facility.

[Containment Item 4-01: White Boils]

The second vehicle was opened to reveal a book, its black cover stained with blood, yellowed pages visible from the side.

[Containment Item 1-01: The Script]

The third vehicle opened to reveal a dirty, yellowed quill.

[Containment Item 1-01-1: The Script’s Pen]

Once all three vehicles had entered the underground lab, the scientists withdrew and the heavy metal doors began to close.

No one entering the underground facility was permitted to leave except on official business. Even in the event of a life-threatening incident, unauthorized departure was punishable by death at the hands of the guards outside.

Around the research institute, tons of high explosives had been installed. Should anything occur beyond control, the entire facility would be obliterated.

Every scientist who entered had signed their lives away. When they chose to join this grand undertaking, they had already put life and death behind them.