Chapter 27 - Spices

"Ugh! Ugh!"

Seeing Gromril's actions, the Skinks stall owner started to shriek and gesticulate wildly. Gromril found everything in the Temple City new and fresh, and the Lizardmen, in turn, found him and the Amazonian translator equally novel. In the blink of an eye, a crowd of onlookers gathered around him.

"It means, if you're not buying, don't touch."

The Amazonian translator was a little embarrassed; she hadn't expected the Dwarf King of the Southern World's Edge Mountains to be so undignified.

"Money? I have plenty!"

Gromril pulled out a handful of gold coins from his pouch and slapped them onto the Skinks' counter. Seeing a table full of gleaming dwarf gold, the cries of the surrounding Skinks grew even more intense.

In Lizardmen society, gold was used to make plaques for recording information, but these items were clearly deeply tied to the authority of the higher-ups. Only Slann and certain high-ranking priests were qualified to read and use them; for the Skinks commoners, it was, of course, out of the question.

"Woo, hiss!"

The stall owner's tone immediately changed. Gromril gently rubbed the spices, countless thoughts flashing through his mind, from the development of his territory to future goals, and then to his past life's experiences and memories.

"Boss, what's the word?"

Seeing the Boss frozen in place for a long time, the Amazonian, who didn't understand the situation, couldn't help but ask.

"Hoo! Hoo!"

Gromril shivered before coming back to his senses, breathing heavily. For the first time since his transmigration, the dwarf felt fear. Even when he first transmigrated and faced Tzeentch, he hadn't felt this way, being as fearless as a newborn calf.

The source of this feeling was multifaceted. First, there was the unknown – his understanding of Cathay and indeed the entire East was so meager that it could be filled on a single sheet of paper. His previous life's game didn't include this part, and if he went there, he certainly wouldn't be able to act with foresight and plan before moving, as he could here.

Another source was "possession." Nowadays, he possessed so much more than when he first transmigrated: strength, territory, prestige, wealth, and so on. These things made him fearful of adventure.

As for the last source, it was, of course, the trepidation of approaching home. At his core, he still considered himself a Cathayan. After all, he had a ton of poems and essays in his mind with nowhere to use them!

He had read Western classics in his previous life, but taking Shakespeare's classics as an example, he only remembered the general plot. Hamlet couldn't be replicated with just an outline and the line "To be, or not to be, that is the question."

"Get me a stool. I have some questions for it. Tell it that if it answers well, everything on this table is its!" Gromril instructed.

The power of gold was immense. The Skinks Boss simply closed the shop door and sat down with the two visitors.

"Where do these spices come from?" Gromril asked, narrowing his eyes.

"The East, the Land of Spices, a land flowing with milk and honey," the Amazonian translated.

"Nonsense! The East is vast! Be more specific!" The Dwarf King was very dissatisfied with this answer; even a three-year-old in the Old World knew spices came from the East.

"It says it doesn't know either. It got these things from Tiaquatek."

"Tiaquatek?" Gromril opened the system in his mind and searched. Soon, he found that it was also a Temple City, located a bit further south of the White Bone Temple.

"It says there's an Eastern Bazaar there, where Eastern merchants come by boat to trade. Their goods include exotic artifacts, spices, and silk. However, the Lizardmen don't need the last one."

"Bazaar?" Gromril chewed on the word. As a former Northwesterner, he knew this was a Uyghur word meaning market or farmers' market. He had even visited a place called the International Grand Bazaar. But this word combined with "East" was rare.

"Alright, it seems I need to go there." After asking for some related details, Gromril got up and walked out of the shop door. He no longer had the leisure to wander around and headed straight for the Obsidian Quarry.

To build the bridge tower, raw materials were, of course, indispensable, and obsidian, a volcanic rock that reacted with magic, was the best choice. The White Bone Temple had no giant lizards, so the task of quarrying stone naturally fell to the Dwarves.

"Brothers, put down your work for a moment!" Gromril shouted loudly in front of the construction site. His clansmen put down their tools and awaited further instructions.

Most dwarf regular soldiers were selected from ordinary conscripts. When a warrior accumulated enough experience and merit, he would be considered well-suited to make a living with weapons rather than tools. But this did not mean he would forget how to do simple work like quarrying stone.

"Stop work for a bit! The Lizardmen's fruit wine is good, and the roasted meat is also excellent. Tonight, everyone can enjoy themselves to the fullest, and tomorrow, accompany me to the south to take a look!" Gromril felt like a foreman, and in fact, dwarf Lords often played this role when necessary.

"Praise the Ancestor Chosen!"

"May Gromril the Generous be with the gods!"

"Drink ha ha ha! It's been too long since we've celebrated like this!"

The Dwarves cheered. They were going to relax under the cover of night, while Gromril, guided by a Skinks priest, traversed the labyrinthine passages within the pyramid. He was going to see Otlax.

The walls inside the pyramid were also decorated with images and symbols depicting Lizardmen mythology and totems of the gods. But unlike those outside, these were brightly colored and more finely carved.

Deep within the path, Gromril stopped before a room adorned with a magical rune array. Two stronger, better-equipped Lizardmen stood guard at the doorway.

Gromril suspected they were Scar-Veterans. Saurus do not die of natural causes; the longer they survive in battle, the more they understand the meaning of the army to the individual. At the same time, their experience on the battlefield also refined their combat prowess.

"Little dwarf, I haven't even closed my eyelids yet, and you're back again?" The Slann's telepathy resonated. It appeased the guards and simultaneously caused the door to open slightly.

"Taking a hot spring bath? How enjoyable!" Gromril saw Otlax sitting cross-legged in a pool inside the room, the misty steam somewhat obstructing Gromril's vision.

"Respected Slann, I have some personal business and need to go to Tiaquatek. I have already informed the clansmen in the Mountain Stronghold about the bridge tower, and a larger, more professional construction team will soon come to serve the Great Plan." Gromril's attitude was very humble; after all, abandoning a job halfway was not a very responsible behavior.

"As you wish. Lord Atticus, who presides there, is a senior who is both my teacher and friend, and his views on the Great Plan are similar to mine." Otlax's voice remained slow and unhurried, as two Skinks splashed water onto its back.

"This isn't a hot spring; it's called the Divination Pool. This place is close to the geomantic network, and the pool water is almost entirely condensed from the Winds of Magic. Soaking in it helps me foresee the future. You dwarves naturally repel magic, so you can't feel it."

Otlax could still monitor Gromril's thoughts, but the Slann had no intention of delving deeper.

"You go. I've already contacted Attik. The ley line network allows us to communicate with each other. Tiaquatek is the core of the Southlands' network, and it's one of the few remaining intact places."

Gromril bid farewell to the Slann and, after a night's rest, resumed his journey. Gromril had originally wanted to borrow some beasts of burden from Otlax to save his clansmen some effort.

However, although the Lizardmen had many giant beasts, the White Bone Temple seemingly had none, only Cold Ones. The Lizardmen's Cold Ones were the same as the Dark Elves', but they were naturally of the same kind; they didn't need to apply venom to themselves and suffer the side effects to ride them.

But unfortunately, the dwarves couldn't gain the approval of those ill-tempered, dim-witted reptiles. Making them pull wagons was also unrealistic, mainly because there were no drivable paths in the rainforest.

After a night of relaxation, Gromril and his clansmen set off again, led by their guides. According to Otlax, this section of the journey was relatively safe, as Tiaquatek had stronger control over its vicinity.

After a long period of arduous travel, a larger temple-city revealed its spires from the rainforest. Just as Gromril was wondering how to proceed, a group of Skinks suddenly emerged from underground.

"Venerable Attik sent me to welcome you, wanderers from afar."

The leading priest actually spoke a fluent common tongue. Gromril was greatly surprised, but on second thought, it was normal; the Slann could easily transmit such knowledge through psychic resonance.

"Where did you come from?"

Gromril asked, not recalling Lizardmen having the ability to move underground in the game.

"Our tunnels were built even before your young race was born!" The Skink displayed the superiority of being the Old Ones' firstborn. The Dwarf King shook his head, asked no more questions, and followed them into the ground.

"Maintained by magic? How extravagant!"

dwarves were experts at tunneling. Gromril glanced at the tunnel walls and immediately determined that this structure wasn't held up by physical means. Being close to the temple-city, it could draw immense power from the ley line architecture, so Tiaquatek's Slann directly used magic to support the underground passages.

Without the winding detours that made distances seem longer, the group headed straight for the city. When they emerged from the tunnel, they were already before the city walls. The White Bone Temple's defenses were magically enchanted fences, but here, the defenses were much more advanced.

The obsidian-stacked city walls were already sturdy, and their surfaces were carved with golden magical networks, which could better conduct magic and enhance defensive performance.

"Since we're here, we should at least meet the host first!" Gromril thought to himself. He didn't head straight for the Eastern Bazaar but followed the welcoming party directly down the central avenue towards the pyramid.

The pyramid here was more magnificent than that of the White Bone Temple, and the security was much stronger. Gromril saw a small group of Temple Guard. They were clad in heavy armor, resting their finely polished, sacredly inscribed two-handed halberds on the ground.

Even more captivating were their unique bone helmets. These armors were crafted from the horned or bone-crested skulls of large predatory animals from Lustria. They were passed down as sacred relics among the Temple Guard, and legend had it that the inheritors gained a portion of their ancestors' strength and combat skills from them.

The Temple Guard were unparalleled guardians. The keen-eyed dwarves noticed a thin layer of dust on them, suggesting they had been on guard for many years.

"Otlax told me about you. In my opinion, achieving the Great Plan requires the unity of all races. However, I have reservations about his idea of contacting our kin across the Great Pond."

Lord Attik on the observatory wore a silk cloak over his body, revealing blue skin underneath. His power was greater than Otlax's before, and Gromril was unsure whether the skin color was due to different lineages or different properties of the Winds of Magic.

"At the dawn of the world, your ancestors displayed many commendable abilities, and after all these years, it seems you have made further progress. I think my city also needs your goods and services."

Lord Attik, having been informed in advance, got straight to the point. Gromril's heart swelled with joy; this trade agreement alone made the arduous journey worthwhile. Tiaquatek was even more prosperous and powerful than the White Bone Temple, and its purchasing power would certainly be greater.

After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Gromril and his guard hurried to the "Eastern Bazaar." From a distance, he could smell the pungent aroma of spices and hear the rising and falling cries of vendors.

"Come, come! Over here, take a look!"

"Finest silk, Slann-approved!"

The shop owners here didn't sit at the front but hired some Skinks to sell goods. The sudden influx of a large group of foreigners from the market's main entrance attracted the attention of the Salesmen.

"I am Lord Gromril of the Southern World's Edge Mountains! Who is in charge here?!"

Gromril had rehearsed many opening lines on the way, but once he arrived, he couldn't help but blurt out the most traditional one.

"Boundless Pure Treasure Celestial Venerable!"

Hearing Gromril's loud and clear common tongue, several humans dressed in silk robes rushed out from the back of a shop. Gromril looked at those familiar East Asian faces, and tears almost welled up in his eyes.

"dwarves? How are they here?"

"Quick, get the sea chart!"

Several humans communicated in their own language. Gromril understood about eighty percent of it; their language was largely similar to the vernacular Chinese of his previous life.

"Ahem, forgive my presumption, esteemed Venerable Longbeard, may I ask why you have come here?" A servant approached with a teapot and poured a cup of tea for everyone.

"Where are you from? Cathay?" Gromril didn't answer, instead asking the question he was most concerned about.

"Hiss, indeed! We are all subjects under the Haotian Dragon Emperor." The Cathay merchant was startled; they hadn't expected this dwarf, who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, to know such things.

"This, according to our intelligence, you and your clansmen should all be living on the northern continent. How, how did you get here? Or have we taken a wrong turn?" Another Cathay man approached, holding a map.

"My race originally started in the Southlands and only moved north later. Now I'm leading a group of people back to our old home," Gromril answered the Cathayan's question simply.

"What about you? Who are you, and why have you come to the Southlands?"

"I am Linghu Zhengde, a humble purchasing agent for the Dragon Fleet." The translator first introduced himself, then pointed to the authority figure whose clothing was embroidered with a dark blue dragon pattern, and continued the introduction.

"This is Zou Qilin, the Grand Commandant of the Southern Branch of the Dragon Fleet's trade caravan." Zou Qilin, seeing the translator look his way, rose and cupped his hands in a salute to Gromril.

"The Dragon Fleet? Is that Cathay's navy?" Gromril asked.

"Indeed, we are all subjects of the Grand Commandant of Weidong Province and Admiral of the Dragon Fleet, Dragon Lord Yin Yin. You may not have heard the name of Zong Ji Yin Yin; she is the daughter of His Majesty the Dragon Emperor and Her Majesty the Moon Empress, a Dragon Lord who commands the East."

"Dragon Emperor, Moon Empress, Dragon Lord…" Gromril repeated some of the names; he needed a moment to understand and absorb them.

"I've heard of Binlong Zhaoming. How is he doing now? Is he still in charge of the country?" Gromril recalled the information provided by President Brokk of the Engineers Guild.

"Are you referring to His Highness Zhao Ming, the Grand Commandant of Weixi Province, who presides over Shang-Yang and guards the Long Tooth Road?" Linghu Zhengde showed a look of surprise, but in an instant, he provided himself with an explanation.

"Hahaha, that's right. You Westerners learn about us Cathayans through the Long Tooth Road, so it's natural that you know of His Highness Zhao Ming. He is still the Lord of Shang-Yang; though our Lord Father walks the world in human form, his true body remains an immortal True Dragon."

Gromril could feel Linghu Zhengde's reverence for the Dragon Gods. As rulers, they should be widely loved by the people, and at least their army was quite loyal.

"Bin Long, Dragon Lord. Besides these two, are there other Dragon Lords?" Gromril continued to ask; he remembered President Brokk had mentioned another name.

"Those who often appear before people and command the four directions also include the Grand Commandant of Weibei Province, the Changyuan Sentinels, Biao Long Miaoying; the Grand Commandant of Wei Nan Province and the Paradise Mountain Range, Li Dao; and the Governor and Prime Minister of the Central Province, Grand Duke Azure Dragon. There are others…" Linghu Zhengde had great enthusiasm for the Dragon Lords and their descendants, and he introduced them with great interest.

"Linghu, no more talk! Ask him why he has come!" Before he could finish, Zou Qilin interrupted his subordinate. He spoke in Cathayan, which Gromril understood, but pretending not to understand at this moment could do no harm.

"Ah, you just said you returned to your homeland, which is a very good thing. Congratulations!" Linghu Zhengde quickly changed the subject. "But what brings you here? It's quite a distance from the Mountains."

"I came here to sign some trade agreements with Lord Attik. Cooperation and mutual benefit can accelerate development. Hearing the Skinks discuss that there were foreigners here, I came to take a look along the way." Gromril, of course, wouldn't say he had specifically come for the Cathayans; he provided a watertight answer.

"May I ask where you are from? Karaz-A-Karak, Karak Kadrin, or Karak Varn?" Linghu took out a hastily drawn map and asked while looking at it.

"It is Karaz-A-Karak, the Everpeak, the capital of the Mountain Kingdom. I am the son of the true Lord of the Mountains." Gromril corrected him. Many Imperial humans struggled with the dwarf city names, let alone Cathayans. To facilitate communication, many clansmen used common tongue names to refer to their cities.

"Oh, oh, then, do you still have contact with that side?" Linghu Zhengde seemed very excited.

"Of course, we have two trade caravans traveling back and forth every month!" Gromril gave a definitive answer.

"They come from the end of the Long Tooth Road! And they maintain close contact with that place!" The translator turned to report.

"Excellent!" Zou Qilin slapped the armrest of his chair, trying hard to control his joy. "This place is not very rich in produce, and the lizard-like creatures do not wear clothes, running around naked. We have suffered from poor performance for too long!"

Immediately after, Linghu Zhengde enthusiastically invited Gromril to stay overnight in the bazaar and arranged some oriental specialty dishes for him and his subordinates. Looking at the chopsticks in his hand and the stir-fried dishes on the plate, Gromril attributed all his unusual behavior to "not being used to the food."

The guards did not see through the reason behind the Cathayans' enthusiasm, attributing it all to their wealth and hospitality. The high-concentration distilled liquor from the East was much stronger than the Lizardmen's fermented fruit wine, and they soon became completely drunk.

"Phew, I didn't expect to have to personally eavesdrop one day!" Gromril had matters on his mind and hadn't drunk much alcohol. He pulled out the World's Edge, wiped it gently, and the runes on it activated. To outsiders, he disappeared, and his every movement was silent.

Gromril easily bypassed a few guards. These Cathayan soldiers wore lamellar armor—iron plates connected by leather straps or rivets. But Gromril couldn't deduce much more information from this alone; the Warhammer World couldn't really be fully aligned with his previous life's history.

"This trade route must be controlled by us!!"

Gromril heard Zou Qilin's voice. This Grand Commandant was clearly not just a caravan leader; he was also a very capable general.

"Naturally! Our caravan is about to turn things around this time!"

"Back then, for safety, they chose this route, and what was the result? Not much safer, and the profits were so meager! I won't even mention those going to Nippon; the caravans going to Ind earned much more!"

"Thousands of years ago, when that Lahmia was still around, who knows how much they earned selling firearms! It's said that the natives there owed so much money that even pawning their entire city-state wouldn't have been enough to pay it back! Why is it gone now!"

The caravan managers had also drunk a lot of alcohol, and they gathered to discuss. Gromril's mind raced; the Cathayans wanted to connect with the Old World through him, and he, too, wanted to establish a connection with Cathay. However, knowing their intentions would allow him to hold the initiative.

"What a pity, I still have too little information. I don't know what status these few people hold, or what price they can offer." Gromril felt a slight regret as he silently walked back to his guest room.

"Five silks, fifty lotus flowers, or… My heavens, how do they even conduct trade like this!" Early the next morning, Gromril was wandering through the market.

Since the Lizardmen did not use precious metals as currency, this bazaar was still in the bartering stage. He couldn't accurately calculate the price of Cathayan goods because his trade with the Lizardmen was also based on bartering.

"Lord Gromril, Governor Zou invites you to his tent for a discussion!" While Gromril was agonizing over the strange prices, Linghu Zhengde approached with two Cathay warriors to extend the invitation.

"Finally!" Gromril thought to himself. With a major project like railway construction, the more funds he had, the better.

"What is the purpose of inviting me over so early in the morning?" Gromril entered the large tent with a few of his guards. Both sides looked a bit hungover, but the Cathay side showed unconcealed joy, while the dwarves were still a bit dazed.

"Ah haha! We have long admired the customs of the west, but alas, the mountains are high and the roads are long, and we have never had the opportunity to visit. Now that we are fortunate enough to meet you here, we hope you can enlighten us." Zou Qilin exchanged a few pleasantries before getting straight to the point.

Gromril understood the Cathay language, but he still pretended to wait for Linghu Zhengde to translate before responding.

"Enlighten you? The Sons of the Mountains don't bother with such formalities. Feel free to ask anything you wish!"

"How far is it from here to your territory?" Linghu Zhengde decided to proceed gradually.

"It takes more than ten days on foot. With transportation or road construction, it can be shortened," Gromril added. He was afraid that the arduous trek through the rainforest would scare away the Cathay merchants.

"Was your journey here safe?" For this long-distance merchant fleet of the Dragon Fleet, distance was not too much of an issue; they had already traveled from Cathay to here, so a little more distance was fine. Safety, however, was a more critical concern.

"Very safe. The spiritual ley line connection between the White Bone Temple and here is well maintained, and our Lizardmen friends have excellent control over this section of the road."

Gromril said this. He had originally wanted to tell Linghu Zhengde directly that they could land at the White Bone Temple, which would be much closer. However, that would expose his needs, so it was not too late to bring it up later.

"Excellent! May I ask how long it takes to reach the Everpeak from here?" Zou Qilin instructed in Cathay.

"Why are you asking these things?" Although he already had a grasp of the situation, Gromril still feigned ignorance.

"Ah haha, we mean no harm. We merely wish to exchange goods with your people and your compatriots in the Old World. The Grand Cathayan Empire is vast and rich in resources, with many skilled artisans. We imagine there are many things you might need!" Linghu Zhengde finally stated his purpose.

"Oh? I've toured Tiaquatek here, and you can't even capture the Lizardmen's market. How do you expect to compete in the Old World?" Gromril immediately tried to suppress them.

"How do you like our silk?" As he spoke, a graceful maidservant from the side presented a bolt of silk. Gromril's heart skipped a beat as he looked at the woman dressed in Eastern attire, making him quickly take a sip of tea to cover his reaction.

This reaction was not surprising for the young dwarf. He was in the prime of his youth, yet he hadn't encountered a single suitable female throughout this entire expedition.

Regardless of how beautiful the Tomb Queens or their concubines in Nehekhara might have been in life, they were now, quite literally, 'pink skeletons.' The Greenskins reproduced by spreading spores, and the Lizardmen replenished their numbers through spawning pools; neither had genders.

Counting them all, besides the Amazonians, a group of fierce women who could tear apart tigers and leopards, the only one that could be considered female was the Brood Queen.

"This is the same style as Lord Atticus! Look at this weave, this pattern, this silkiness!" Linghu Zhengde unfurled half of it, promoting it to Gromril. "When made into clothes, it's warm in winter and cool in summer, and it can even…"

"Is it durable?" Gromril reached out and tugged at it. A faint 'rip' sound caused some embarrassment among those present.

"We live underground, and mining and combat are indispensable. Even kings are the same; practicality is paramount when it comes to clothing." Gromril appeared uninterested.

"Then what about this tea? It's the flagship product of the Southern branch of our merchant fleet. Have you ever heard of the Tea-Horse Road?" Linghu Zhengde then placed a brick of tea in front of Gromril. It was clearly specially made for easy preservation during transport.

"Drinking tea, besides invigorating the mind, can also aid digestion, cut through grease, and strengthen the body! In many places, from top to bottom, people would rather go a day without food than a day without tea!" The translator vigorously promoted the product.

"Hahaha, we don't need this. If you gentlemen visit my fortress, you will be treated to fine wines! They are mellow and rich in nutrients! Your liquor is strong, but it burns the throat!" Gromril again declined. He had originally wanted to mention coffee as a competing product, but then he thought that such a move wasn't very Dwarfish.

"I have heard that dwarves are addicted to alcohol. It's fine if this tea doesn't sell!" Zou Qilin gestured to Linghu Zhengde to change the subject.

"Ahem, our Cathay firearms are also renowned. Among the exported items, the Iron Hail Gun and Crane Gun, when paired, provide both long and short-range capabilities. Where their sights are aimed, they sweep everything away! And then there's the Great Cannon, which lives up to its name; with one boom, whoever gets hit knows it!"

Linghu Zhengde began to peddle military equipment again. As the saying goes, 'when the cannon roars, gold flows in.' Military goods or equipment aren't a one-time sale; subsequent ammunition, maintenance, and so on can continue to generate profit.

"Come, come, let me see!" Gromril was very interested in war materials, but after examining samples of the two firearms, he couldn't help but shake his head repeatedly.

"One is a short-range shotgun. Its power is barely adequate, but its range is simply insufficient. Using this in a small space would mean killing a thousand enemies but losing eight hundred of your own. And the Crane Gun, why does it look like a Shu-style hand cannon? Using a tower shield for defense is better, but it's inconvenient to move and deploy!"

The dwarves' heavy crossbows and Thunderers were firearms that had been continuously optimized over thousands of years to be most suitable for dwarves. Although Cathay's firearms had their advantages, they didn't seem applicable.

As for that Great Cannon, its caliber was large but its barrel was short. Its power was not much different from a cannon, and it required oxen for traction to move, which was quite inconvenient.

"Your firearms are really quite ordinary! Does the Grand Cathayan Empire not have any more decent equipment? I heard merchants say there's something called Terracotta Guard… do you have any of those for sale? My wealth, my gold, I…"

"Infinite Pure Treasure Heavenly Venerate!"

"My apologies, my apologies!"

Gromril was interrupted before he could finish speaking by the exclamations and shouts of others.

"You, you really live up to that old saying, 'one should not judge a person by their appearance'! Your height, alas, your appetite is truly not small!" Linghu Zhengde almost resorted to personal attacks, but he ultimately controlled himself.

"Terracotta Guards are only possessed by truly great capitals. Lords can only summon them after building a Sky-Gazing Pavilion, to monitor the world. To my knowledge, in the entire Weidong Province, only Fuzhou City, where Dragon Lord resides, possesses such a nation-guarding divine artifact."

"Ignorance is no sin, but it is best not to mention this matter again!" Zou Qilin set the tone.

"Then it seems we have nothing to discuss. You wouldn't be trying to sell me armor and weapons, would you?" Gromril tapped the plate armor on his chest.

"This…" Seeing Gromril's unyielding stance, the caravan's senior members looked troubled. Their core idea wasn't actually to sell goods to the dwarves; both the caravans using the Long Tooth Road and those traveling by sea directly to the Old World had some understanding of the dwarves, knowing they were also a product-exporting race.

Gromril, through prior reconnaissance, already knew their intentions: to use his territory as a springboard to develop a relatively safe trade route to the Old World, in order to sell their goods to the humans there.

"Your race is self-sufficient, but aren't there other powers in the west that need our goods? That Tilea, for example, a few centuries ago, they had an explorer named Marco Polo who traveled thousands of miles to our country."

The Cathayans discussed it for a bit and finally stated their true needs directly.

"What? You want to trade with the Old World through my territory?" Gromril smirked. These half-military, half-merchant fellows were finally in his grasp. "Why should I give you such convenience, hmm?"

"We will pay you taxes. How do you plan to levy them?" The merchants knew dwarves liked gold, and paying taxes was part of their plan.

"Let's look at my advantages." Gromril used a confident smile to mask his lack of economic knowledge; in his previous life, he was a science student and only had a rough idea of how tariffs were collected.

"First is safety. From Highland Fortress to Everpeak, I have already cleared the way. I will be responsible for the safety of the Southern World's Edge Mountains, my father, the High King, can be responsible for the safety of the Old World, and for safety at sea, Barak-Var's ironclads are unparalleled." Gromril took out his map and lightly sketched with charcoal.

"What about the Land of the Dead? Nehekhara was once a fertile place, but now there is not a single living soul." Linghu Zhengde asked, looking at the waterway on the Great River Mortis. From yesterday's meeting, Gromril learned that the Cathayans seemed to have had some contact with Nehekhara before.

"I will deal with the Land of the Dead. The Undying Emperor has granted me convenience, but you should know that bribing the Tomb Kings is very costly."

"On another note, as far as I know, the Long Tooth Road must pass through the Dark Lands and the Mountains of Mourn. Fewer than one in ten caravans can pass through safely."

The Long Tooth Road starts from Karak Kadrin, but in reality, more merchants would gather at the trade center, Everpeak. However, due to huge losses, it had been a long time since a large enough group was willing to risk their lives.

For a trade route, the more it is used, the higher the threats it faces. This is not difficult to understand; in the first few times, one might sneak through while the controlling forces are unprepared, but after sneaking through many times, there will always be a time when they are caught. Once the enemies taste the sweetness, they will naturally put more effort into catching them.

However, everything is relative. As there have been no caravans connecting East and West for a long time, the scarcity of specialties continues to increase, and prices soar. The huge profits will eventually turn greed into bravery. At the same time, the plunderers will relax their vigilance due to lack of Harvest.

"If only your corrupted kin were half as reasonable as you, alas!" Chaos Dwarfs and Ogres were major plunderers on the Long Tooth Road.

"Second is speed. It currently takes over a month to get from my city to the Old World, but I am currently undertaking a massive project. Once completed, reaching Sea Gate within half a month will not be a problem." Gromril once again brought up the selling point of the railway.

"Finally, there are the outlets." Gromril motioned for his subordinates to switch to a schematic map of the Mountains Kingdom.

"I believe that after your goods endure hardships to reach the Old World, they still face considerable resistance and exploitation from local powers during the distribution process." Gromril took a sip of tea, smiling at the humans.

In this world, capital naturally generates internal trade protection, which is complementary to external expansion to find markets. As Gromril knew, a portion of the resistance faced by Cathayan goods in the Old World came from the Dwarf Holds.

"If you cooperate with me, I can facilitate the sale of your goods in various fortresses and settlements. We have complete transportation and sales channels." Gromril said, pointing at the map.

"Perfect!"

"We just need to transport the goods here and wait to collect money!"

"Once this deal is done, getting promoted and making a fortune will be a matter of course!"

Gromril's three advantages directly hit the Cathayans' pain points, and they burst into cheers. However, the Governor of Transportation remained very calm; he knew that such comprehensive service would not be cheap.

"Ask him how much tax he desires?" The Cathayan Governor's hand, resting on the armrest, showed bulging veins. The dark blue dragon pattern on his clothes seemed to nod and wag with his breathing.

"You make an offer! I hope to see your sincerity; this is the basis of cooperation." Gromril said with a smile. It's never a big mistake to let others make the first offer when you are unsure.

"We need to discuss it first!" Linghu Zhengde saw the Governor's gesture, and he decided to buy some time.

"Hey, that's not right. Discussing behind my back, is it distrusting us, the Sons of the Mountains, or looking down on us?" Gromril put on an angry expression. He was certain that the Cathayans had no way to verify at this critical juncture.

"Westerners once said that the customs of dwarves are quite different from other races."

"The Western barbarians do not read poetry, do not understand etiquette, and their languages are incomprehensible. There should be no harm in this."

Zou Qilin thought it over and decided not to anger Gromril over this minor matter. The caravan leaders gathered and began to discuss, and Gromril pricked up his ears, hearing their conversation clearly.

It was no wonder they were careless. Firstly, they were blinded by potential profits, and secondly, they knew that dwarves had their own language. The common tongue Gromril and Linghu Zhengde used earlier was already a foreign language; mastering another almost useless foreign language on top of that was negligible.

"How about we charge by the carriage? We'll give you fifty gold coins per carriage, and you just need to count them. It's simple and convenient, what do you think?"

The Cathayans proposed a specific duty method, which reduced the workload of customs and sounded quite good. But Gromril had already investigated the goods beforehand, so he wouldn't fall for that.

"Hahaha, do you think I don't know? Spices, tea, silk, firearms, a single carriage full could be worth more than a thousand gold coins, and you only give me fifty? Are you trying to fob off a Goblin?" Gromril's laugh was cunning.

"A hundred then?"

"That's not even enough for you to get out of the Mountains of Mourn!"

"One hundred fifty!"

"My corrupted kin always lack slaves!"

"This…" The Cathayans' bottom line had been probed by Gromril, and they had no choice but to make further concessions.

"Then what do you propose?" Linghu Zhengde asked.

"Tariffs must be collected based on price; don't even suggest by the cart. That trick might fool Ogres, but it won't fool me." Gromril set the tone.

"How many percent?" Zou Qilin asked directly. He knew that word.

"I only want twenty percent! But the value must be calculated based on your actual selling price. What you report yourselves won't do as a loss." Gromril had no way of knowing the Cathayans' purchasing prices or their transportation costs along the way, so he decided to control it at the final step.

"That's very troublesome. The market fluctuates, and different places…" Linghu Zhengde frowned. Based on past experience, their goods had very considerable profits. If the dwarf in front of him could truly keep his promise, twenty percent was not an unacceptable range.

"Take an average, from various places, annually, and so on. My treasurer will be responsible for coordinating with you. This will be a long-term cooperation, won't it?"

"Agreed!" Zou Qilin nodded. This time, only the general framework needed to be finalized; the specific details could be discussed later.

"I have an additional condition: your goods must not conflict with those of my own race. This includes, but is not limited to, weapons and firearms. If you insist on selling them, I will impose additional protective tariffs on those relevant goods."

Gromril added that the distribution of goods required the cooperation of other Strongholds. If the outsiders he introduced directly competed with his own kin, it would be a huge blow to his reputation.

"Draft an agreement!"

Eventually, both parties reached an agreement. Gromril signed his name on three documents written in Dwarfen, Cathayan, and Common Tongue, and Zou Qilin stamped each one.

"So, can we start trading now?" The Cathayans, having put away the documents, seemed eager.

"Of course, my Fortress always welcomes you. I think my storeroom still has enough fine wine to entertain our friends from the East!" Gromril also laughed heartily. The establishment of the trade route had resolved a major worry for him.

As soon as Gromril settled in Highland Fortress, he began to ponder the positioning of his territory. What role should this land, far from the Old World, play in the Mountains Kingdom and even the entire world?

Operating it according to the traditional dwarf Stronghold model would be difficult. The cost of transporting bulk raw ore and products back to the Old World was too high. Before enough people moved in, there was no market nearby that could absorb them. The Tomb King was unreliable, and the Lizardmen were not very good buyers either.

Could it rely on the Ancestor Hall as a pilgrimage-type tourist attraction? This was clearly not enough to support Gromril's grand goal of saving the world. The appearance of the Cathayans solved this point. If all went well, Highland Fortress would become a trade hub between East and West, and Gromril would extract sufficient capital from it.

Gromril suggested taking a boat to the coast near the White Bone Temple to avoid the arduous trek through the rainforest. The Cathayan caravan adopted the suggestion, moving quickly to pack their goods and head to the shore.

The dwarves saw the Cathayan fleet. The Fuchuan ships in the harbor looked a bit wider than those from Bordeleaux. But the bigger difference was in the sails: Bordeleaux's were soft cloth sails, while Cathay's were hard sails made of mats.

Standing on the deck, Gromril felt that the Cathayan ships were relatively more stable and slightly slower in speed. However, he noticed that these ships lacked large winches, which meant that controlling the sails was more convenient and safer. In Bordeleaux, Gromril had learned that furling sails in a storm was one of the most dangerous challenges for sailors.

"Did you not consider landing at the White Bone Temple before?" Gromril asked, breathing in the sea breeze. The White Bone Temple was an estuary, with relatively better hydrology and easier to discover.

"Of course, we considered it, but the Slann there did not permit it. Lord Attik is the most approachable of the rulers on the East Coast," the translator added, seeing that Gromril didn't understand.

"Of course, that is for us people of the Celestial Empire. Well, although everyone is a creation of the Old Ones, before those powerful beings from beyond arrived, the great Dragon Emperor and Moon Empress already ruled the land of Cathay."

Linghu Zhengde said, and Gromril knew that the Cathayan Dragons, like the Great Dragons of Ulthuan, were indigenous to this world. But it was clear that the Dragon Emperor and his consort were more powerful; they were not affected by the climate changes caused by shifts in stellar orbits. This also meant that knowledge about the arrival of the Old Ones was open there.

"Five thousand years ago, our ancestors were created by powerful beings and placed on the land of the Dragon Gods. The True Dragons were powerful and benevolent; they allowed our ancestors to settle there and even transformed into human forms to lead and protect them. But good times did not last; those powerful beings from beyond brought Chaos…"

"For the Dragon Emperor and his consort, the arrival of the Old Ones, besides making the environment uncomfortable, also brought a large number of enemies, is that right?" Gromril mused.

"Yes, when Chaos began to sweep the world, His Majesty assembled an army to defend our country, and eventually built The Great Bastion to keep the Chaos tribes out of the pass." A glow appeared on Linghu Zhengde's face.

"But good times didn't last; those great toads caused an earthquake, and a part of The Great Bastion collapsed. Countless Chaos minions invaded from the north, and the Dragon Gods led our ancestors, paying a huge price to repel them. Many related ancient texts are now sealed away."

"And then the Haotian Dragon Emperor went to reason with the Slann?" Gromril asked, stroking his beard. The same great earthquake had affected history in various corners of the world, and he wondered how strong it would be by his previous life's standards.

"That is not something we mortals can know. However, Zong Ji Yin Yin once commanded a fleet to land on the Lizardmen's territory, but, well, the results were not significant," the human said, choosing his words carefully.

"It seems I will have to mediate with Otlax over there." Gromril pondered. Repairing the Temple City had a shortage of manpower and resources. At that time, making some concessions would be enough to persuade that Fifth Generation Slann.

Indeed, the water route was much faster than trekking through the rainforest. When Gromril returned to the White Bone Temple, the construction team he had assembled had just arrived. Seeing the progress of the project, Otlax did not make things difficult. After Gromril and the Cathayan merchants promised to contribute more to the development of his territory, he chose to let them pass.

"Your Fortress is truly a work of divine craftsmanship!"

"Unprecedented!"

"To excavate such a large structure underground, what immense power!"

The members of this caravan were all seeing a dwarf Stronghold for the first time. Their exclamations delighted every Son of the Mountains. A grand welcoming banquet and fine wine filled the Stronghold with a joyful atmosphere.

The Cathayans were very anxious, and the next day they insisted on departing. Gromril, of course, understood them. He dispatched guides, provided a signed travel permit, and notified the various fortresses along the way via rune telegraph.

Regarding the Old World, he planned to wait until the trade caravan reached Sea Gate before making any further decisions. The kings, seeing the Cathayans and their goods, would naturally support his decision. Seeing it with their own eyes was far more convincing than a brief telegram.

No sooner had Gromril relaxed than the first wave of immigrants arrived, injecting new vitality into the entire Southern World's Edge Mountains. According to his initial plan, the humans would directly claim and train land on the Lost Plateau.

Meanwhile, some of his clansmen built residences for these humans, while others went to the White Bone Temple to work for the Slann to earn their keep. Karak-Zorn suddenly became empty; traditional Dwarf race industries like mining and forging ceased. Now, it was an architectural company's office.

Only Rogov, serving as the captain of the guard, and his guards remained by Gromril's side. All his other subordinates were engaged in production. Gromril had dispatched his trusted aides to one place after another, and with no one left by his side, he once again realized the problem of insufficient manpower.

"How can I discover, or even train, enough talent?" Gromril sat at his desk, deep in thought.

If he were to follow his past life's thinking, a selective examination would suffice, but unfortunately, he lacked the ability to create test papers or curricula, and the objective conditions of the Dwarf race also made such an endeavor difficult.

"Currently, the noble youths willing to come to the Southlands are generally young and have some ideas, but they lack experience and prestige." Gromril pulled out another draft paper.

"However, these individuals have all received relevant leadership education," Gromril, as a High Prince himself, had studied courses beyond traditional survival skills, such as how to push through resolutions, establish personal authority, and unite and encourage clan members in various ways.

The increase in birth rate would be difficult to see results from in the short term. Every clansmen was a valuable asset, and any clansmen with even a slight blood relation to the lord had the opportunity to be appointed. They needed to prepare for taking on management positions.

"Some of them will be more radical, while others are too idealistic. Beards that are too short will also interfere with their management." Gromril recalled the young people he had communicated with during the expedition. In fact, if they didn't possess these traits, they wouldn't have given up a stable life to participate in an adventure.

"Other usable individuals are the leaders of small clans and commoner civil servants who were frustrated in their original fortresses." Oin and clan leader Gorat of the Baruk clan were representatives among them.

"They have experience and prestige, but in contrast, they are deeply conservative. Whether they can accept and implement my open policies without compromise is a problem. And, well, they might engage in self-serving practices."

"My territory will develop rapidly over the next ten to twenty years. Development will bring opportunities and loopholes. I cannot let my cadres be constantly tested like this." These relatively lower-level clansmen had been tempered by life; their purpose in coming here was to improve their own lives and even their clan's.

In his previous life, "fighting tigers and swatting flies" was always "on the way." Considering the Dwarves' natural love for gold and fine wine, it would be very difficult to expect them to withstand temptation when it was readily available.

"I need these two sides to complement and check each other, plus some additional oversight." Gromril summarized. His responsibilities were too vast now; he had four fortresses, including the Demonbane Fortress under construction.

In addition to these, there was Quata Port, the White Bone Temple construction site, and planned railways and customs. Adding these up, the only one in the entire Mountains Kingdom whose burden could compare to his was Thorgrim, but his father had a group of advisors in the High King's Court, while his own subordinates were, at best, only enough to manage a medium-sized stronghold.

"I'm idle anyway. I might as well take a tour of the north. Fire refines true gold; perhaps many talents will emerge from practical work." Gromril acted immediately. He assembled his guards, mounted his rock ram, and headed north along the path he had come.

Traveling the same road again, he had a completely different state of mind. Now he was in high spirits, his rock ram moving briskly. Along the way, he encountered two patrol and hunting teams, one prospecting team, and one survey team. Gromril expressed his concern and condolences, and also inquired about their work progress.

"It's very lively!" After traveling a bit further, Gromril reached the designated location for Karak-Demonbane Fortress. The eastern side of the Lost Plateau had a huge steep slope here, as if the Mountains had split open.

And below the steep slope was not a good place. It was the ruins of Astri, once a major southern town of Nehekhara. Astri was once the territory of the mighty Alcadizaar, and everything here was utterly destroyed after the Lord of the Undead returned.

A little to the east of the ruins was the huge Ring of the Living Dead. This thing, as its name suggests, was a massive pit of corpses. The composition of the victims within it was best left unsaid; any lone Necromancer could enter and emerge with a retinue.

Zou Qilin reminded him that the former lands of Nehekhara east of Casket Canyon were not as desolate as they appeared; some dark forces were entrenched there, brewing certain conspiracies, which urged Gromril to accelerate the construction of Demonbane Fortress.

"My Lord, you've finally arrived!" The guards walked towards the temporary shelters, where Oin, the person in charge, came out to greet them. This middle-aged dwarf was not surprised by Gromril's appearance; in his opinion, building a fortress was far more important than anything else, and it would be strange if the lord didn't come to supervise or even personally participate.

"Ho, the Restorer of the Old Lands, the esteemed Ancestor Chosen Gromril! young'un, what did I say back then? His Majesty Gromril is destined to achieve great accomplishments!"

Before Gromril could inquire about the situation, an old dwarf with a snow-white beard rushed out. Gromril found him somewhat familiar but couldn't place him immediately. A round, plump middle-aged man who ran over next jogged his memory; this was the owner of the bar in the Helmgart dwarf settlement at the time.

"Isn't this the Stonemason Elder of Helmgart! Welcome, welcome. The development of the Southern World's Edge Mountains desperately needs construction masters like you." Gromril grasped the old dwarf's hand and shook it a few times, which made the master stonemason even more excited.

"Hahaha! I knew it when I was slaying skaven with you back then! That one Stormhammer strike, hey, you don't know, the sales of heavy crossbows in the Mountains Kingdom have gone down now. Any young'un with some ambition is practicing throwing hammers, but none can even reach the tip of your beard!"

The master stonemason mimicked Gromril's strike that shattered the screaming bell.

Gromril could understand the excitement of the Master Stonemason; after the War of the Beard, the Mountain Strongholds had been in decline.

For thousands of years, no new Karaks had been started, at most only some repair work; in these years, the representative works of the Master Builders were basically human constructions.

"The news of your plan to build a new city has spread throughout the Mountains, and the old dwarfs in the relevant guilds are all willing to contribute a part of their strength."

The Stonemason then gave Gromril another piece of good news. Although there were many precedents for how to build a Karak, experienced builders and designers could greatly speed up progress and reduce waste.

"Good, that's really good!"

The Lord laughed. The architects hadn't specifically contacted him, nor had they made any extra demands. The saying, "All under heaven respond and gather, bringing provisions and following like shadows," was nothing more than this.

Gromril saw the former tavern owner and knew that the Stonemason's family had sold their property and moved to the Southlands.

"However, this has also brought some problems. Our old dwarfs have different ideas," the old dwarf said, pulling Gromril back as he was about to walk into the shed.

"Whoosh!" Gromril pulled open the curtain in front of the shed and strode in.

"old dwarf, I'm telling you! Only big-nosed Goblins build castles like this!"

"Hmph! The shoddy projects you built for the Bean Sprouts are as short-lived as they are!"

"My skills are passed down from the Honored God Grungni! No one here knows more about building Karaks than I do!"

Seeing Gromril, who had the final say, enter, the several old dwarfs arguing at the conference table shouted even louder.

Judging by their beards, the youngest among them was probably over two hundred years old.

"This is Master Penia, from Karak Izor. The valley kingdom of many immigrants from Copper Mountain Hold was his work; this is Master Ironwall from Karak Kadrin. You know, a hundred years ago, in the great war against Chaos, the northernmost Karak-Flag was once destroyed, and he presided over the repair work."

The Master Stonemason first introduced the two on the right side of the table. Gromril nodded to them. From their clothing, these two Masters were standard "Karak dwarves."

"This is Master Enok, a rising star in our architectural world. Thanks to you and the Ancestor Gods, Gulu did not invade our Mountains. His Waaagh! went into the Empire, and the city of Nuln, the city of cannons, suffered the most."

The Master Stonemason then turned to the dwarf on the left. He seemed to be the youngest among the four Masters, dressed in a distinctly human style, and the empty seat next to him, Enok, was clearly the Stonemason's.

"Master Enok was jointly commissioned by the human Elector Counts to preside over the reconstruction of Nuln. After its completion, he immediately rushed over. The current city of Nuln is even more rationally laid out and sturdier than before!"

The Master Stonemason and Enok probably had similar views, and he spoke highly of this rising star.

"So? You all have been discussing how to build this without a result, and my Karak remains only on the drawing board?"

Gromril pulled over a chair and sat down. His voice was low, and the Lord felt an unnamed fire burning in his heart.

No wonder Oin hadn't reported any progress. He had previously thought that building a city would not be difficult for dwarves, and construction should have started by now.

"Building a Karak requires complete preliminary design. Taking Karaz-A-Karak as an example, even if the Ancestor Gods themselves built it, they spent..." Master Ironwall brought up the original legend.

"Indeed, Everpeak was designed for a long time, but that was the first Mountain Stronghold in the Old World, the heart of the Mountain Strongholds. But what I want for Demonbane Fortress? A standard Karak, that's all!"

Gromril tried to control himself. He considered himself diligent in both his lives. Since his transmigration, he had either been campaigning or honing himself.

However, such a life was clearly not his ultimate pursuit. He didn't want to, and didn't have the ability to, micromanage everything.

"Everyone, time is very urgent. You should be clear about the situation in the Southern World's Edge Mountains. For a long time in the future, there will not be such ample manpower and resources."

Gromril took out his plan.

"I have many construction projects in this five-year period, and all of them are urgent. Demonbane Fortress is the most crucial part of them. Without security, how can we talk about development? Do you know about the ring of undead around the plateau? For those who haven't seen it, I will arrange a helicopter to give you an aerial view."

"But..." Master Penia still wanted to argue.

"This is my place, and I provide all the manpower and materials. Now I just want to see results." Gromril paused, his lips moved twice, and he finally spoke harsh words.

"To become the designer of this new city is a highly commendable achievement, and it will be remembered by history. But if, and I mean if, someone deliberately obstructs progress, he can only join the construction as a builder."

As soon as these words were spoken, the Master Builders, their assistants, and other craftsmen, who had been fiercely debating in the shed, all fell silent.

"Have I made myself clear enough?" Gromril narrowed his eyes, scanning the clansmen around him.

"Clear." After half a pipe's silence, the Master Stonemason broke the dead atmosphere. As soon as he spoke, the shed was like a vacuumed environment being depressurized, and many faces seemed to lose some kind of light.

"That's good. Try to speed up the construction period. Zhufbar will transport another batch of cement over then. Combining it should have good results."

Gromril put forward his demands and suggestions. He had a vague premonition that the time left for his territory to develop peacefully would not be much.

"Whew!" Pulling open the curtain and walking out of the shed, Gromril looked at the setting sun. He felt that he had undergone a significant change in the few minutes he had been in and out.

He hadn't considered methods like bidding, project approval, or defense to find the most suitable design. But firstly, his own architectural knowledge was poor, and hiring external experts was not feasible because the experts were already bidding.

Secondly, time was tight. A large number of commoners were on their way, and he needed the Karak as a defensive stronghold.

"Oin, in a situation of great development, the way things are done also needs to change accordingly," Gromril said to the civil official. dwarf society, due to its small population, was patriarchal, but this was somewhat out of step with the times.

"We need to prioritize efficiency and results. When necessary, we need to reclaim the distributed power and let the clansmen know who to listen to. I have high hopes for you, don't disappoint me."

As Gromril spoke, he gazed at the sky. He realized that with the application of new technologies, cooperation among the Dwarf Holds would increase in the future. When he was present, he could rely on his prestige to suppress disagreements, but he couldn't be present all the time.

Gromril continued north early the next morning, having just received news that the first group of Bordeleaux immigrants would soon arrive. Gromril intended to see the humans who would be coming under his rule.

"Spiderweb Mountain has been repaired quite well!"

After another long journey, Gromril's anticipation for the railway grew even stronger. Finally, the plateau came to an end, and he once again saw the long-unseen expanse of green. And amidst the greenery, a Mountain Stronghold emerged.

"Let us welcome the esteemed Ancestor Chosen Lord Gromril!"

After recapturing Highland Fortress, Gromril purchased two more helicopters and assigned them to Red Cloud Mountain and Spiderweb Mountain. The pilots circling in the air had informed the lord of his arrival in advance, and Gorat arranged a welcoming parade in front of the castle for Gromril and his guards.

"The injured are recovering well! How is the mop-up of the enemy remnants progressing?"

Gromril shook hands with each member of the welcoming party. These were also warriors of the expeditionary force, but they had remained behind to protect the rear. Gromril knew they all regretted not being able to confront the demon legion and not being among the first to enter the lost fortress. When distributing the spoils of war, he treated these compatriots equally.

"We gradually unsealed the geomantic network, searching the tunnels section by section. With the help of the iron cage hand cannons, our brothers burned all the spider creatures clean, but the Greenskins in the jungle below the mountain are still restless."

Gromril saw the materials and raw resources awaiting processing in the hall. The Brood Queen's control over her divine power was not strong, and many areas of its lair had been permeated by divine power. These materials, imbued with a hint of divinity, were rare commodities anywhere.

"A group of dark and poor fellows came later. If it weren't for the document signed by you, I would have thought they were some kind of goblin variant!"

Chief Gorat, like every dwarf, harbored a strong sense of dark humor towards humanoids roughly his own height. "I teamed up with them to fight the Greenskins a few times. There was one ambush opportunity that was quite good, but unfortunately, our strength was limited, and we didn't dare to pursue them deep."

"Very good, very good! I'll allocate ten more sets of meteorite iron equipment to you later. Do you have any battle reports or post-battle statistics? Bring them to me to see later!" Gromril praised him, very satisfied with a subordinate who could implement orders while also making certain adaptations.

"Oh, right, send out the news of my arrival and ask the spokesperson from there to come over." After a banquet, Gromril suddenly remembered.

The Pygmies' tribe was not far from the Mountains, and they arrived on the second evening. Gromril did not go out to greet them but arranged for Chief Gorat to do so on his behalf. With a burst of noisy sounds, the visitors entered the hall.

"We offer our highest respect to you, His Majesty Gromril, Lord of the Mountains!"

A chief, noticeably taller and stronger, adorned with more elaborate ornaments and a cape on his back, stepped forward. He extended both hands, palms facing Gromril to show he was unarmed, then bowed deeply. For this race, adept at using poisoned weapons and blowpipes to compensate for their physical shortcomings, this was the highest form of respect.

"Welcome, my friend. What should I call you?" Gromril motioned for him to stand up.

"Dumbia, you may call me that!" The Pygmy chief actually spoke a common tongue.

"Very well, Dumbia, I previously handed a treaty to your subordinates. Now it seems you have fulfilled the original terms, and I am willing to honor my promise." Gromril scanned the Pygmy elites in the hall.

"You truly keep your promises, just as the Ancestral Spirits revealed!" Dumbia flattered him.

"Ancestral Spirits? What does that mean?" Gromril became interested. He hadn't expected such a backward race to also be able to produce spirits.

"Literally, the souls of our ancestors. With the help of witch doctors, we can summon them to provide help or attack enemies." The chief looked at the two individuals behind him, wearing strange masks and bone ornaments.

Gromril had noticed these two long ago. One was tall and thin, the other short and fat, giving off a vibe similar to the 'Fat and Thin Monks'. These should be the Pygmies' spellcasters.

"The two great gods will protect the souls of the strong. Their witch doctors serve as a bridge connecting mortals to the spirit world."

"How many of you are there? Didn't you say over ten thousand?" Gromril frowned. Such a small ethnic group could even give birth to gods, and their power didn't seem too bad.

"To be precise, over fourteen thousand." Dumbia sighed.

"When were your gods born?" Gromril asked, thinking. Back then, the Dwarf race couldn't even gather enough divine authority for Grimbrindal to become a god, let alone these Pygmies, who didn't even have a fraction of that.

"We are also a race created by the Old Ones. At our peak, we once numbered in the hundreds of thousands. At that time, we were subservient to the Old Ones' spokesmen, and our ancestors also received help from the Slann." This must have been the most glorious period for the Pygmies, and Dumbia added many gestures as he narrated.

"But for some unknown reason, the temple cities were abandoned, and the Slann disappeared. With the rise of Nehekhara, the Greenskins, and the spiders one by one, our living space was constantly squeezed."

Gromril pieced together the map in his mind. These Pygmies indeed had a difficult life. The Lizardmen in the Southlands were even more weakened than those in Lustria, so it was normal for them to be unable to look after them.

"Hard times will always pass. I am developing the entire Southern World's Edge Mountains, and you should seize this opportunity. I will allocate land for you to train, and allow you to extract resources from nature, but you also need to ensure the safety of that area and accept my conscription when necessary."

The Dwarf King made his promise, and the Pygmies, having received assurance again, repeatedly expressed their gratitude. Compared to the difficult-to-communicate Greenskins and skeletal creatures, the orderly Dwarf race undoubtedly gave them a greater sense of security.

"Please allow me to present this ancestral treasure to you! The divine power on it can protect the wearer from harm." Dumbia received an item from the two witch doctors, holding it with both hands as he walked up to Gromril.

"What is this?" As soon as Gromril took it, the system reacted. This item was a connecting chain, a component of Gazul's bestowed relic. However, what hung on it now was not a "Hero's Amulet," but a beast bone carved with different faces on both sides.

"Interesting, they've turned this thing into an accessory that adds damage resistance. For now, with no news of the Nine Books of Nagash, wearing it as a necklace is making good use of it." With that thought, Gromril put the necklace around his neck.

"Wula la!"

"Usuthu!"

A great cheer in dialect erupted. These people didn't understand what agreement their chief and the Dwarf King had reached, but accepting tribute meant acceptance.

A grand feast brought joy to both the dwarves and Pygmies. Gromril was eager to depart, so he had clan Chief Gorat and Dumbia discuss further cooperation. Undecided matters were left for his return.

The dwarves had significantly more control over the road between Spiderweb Mountain and Red Cloud Mountain, with mixed patrols from various clans ensuring the safety of this vital mountain pass. Soon, Gromril and his party arrived before Casket Canyon.

"Senior Brother, how is the cleanup of the undead in the canyon progressing?" At this distance, Gromril could easily contact Master Nathan without the need for the anvil of doom.

"Not bad. I personally maintained a safe passage, but there's still a long way to go before they are completely eradicated. I've organized the previous two batches of immigrants; they're building roads and clearing out the undead simultaneously."

Master Nathan quickly replied, and Gromril followed his guidance to the safe path. Although Master Nathan had been immersed in Rune technology previously, this did not mean he lacked capability.

This powerful Rune Master, after designating a passage in the canyon, organized the construction of over a dozen bunkers along the way and personally inscribed runes to dispel the undead on their outer walls.

Such arrangements were enough to keep low-level undead creatures away from this passage, but still insufficient to drive out elite forces above the level of Tomb Guards. For this, each bunker was garrisoned by a small squad of warriors, with key nodes also equipped with artillery.

Relying on this bunker complex, the mountain pass could be effectively controlled. Should any large constructs that couldn't be dealt with appear, the bunkers could also serve as an early warning, allowing for troops to be dispatched from Red Cloud Mountain to encircle and annihilate them.

Following the bunker complex, Gromril spent a day crossing the great canyon. This path was indeed much safer than when he first came, making him secretly commend his Senior Brother and the capable individuals around him.

"Long time no see, Johnson!" Gromril saw his former Anvil Guard captain waiting for him in front of the fortress.

"Thanks to you and the Ancestor Gods, Red Cloud Mountain is doing very well, and will only get better!" The dwarf's voice was as booming as ever. Gromril could tell he was a bit short on rest, but the power that came with responsibility also invigorated him.

"How many clansmen are there here in total now?" Gromril asked as he walked.

"Over four thousand, my Lord!" Under Gromril's arrangement, the permanent immigrants had not yet been settled in Highland Fortress; they were all gathered in the two fortresses of Red Cloud Mountain and Spiderweb Mountain, which reduced some of the loss of grain during transport.

"We didn't dare to cut corners on your orders, my Lord. You've just inspected the road in the canyon, and the mountain pass to Quata is also nearly complete."

"Excellent! Red Cloud Mountain is the face of our entire Southern World's Edge Mountains. Building it well will greatly enhance the immigrants' sense of security!" Gromril praised. He was well aware of the function of a sales office; no matter how rough the interior, the exterior always had to look good.

"Was this your idea? Or did someone suggest it?"

Upon reaching the main entrance, Gromril noticed that the figures depicted in the giant statues on either side of the gate included himself! On the left was the classic image of the Ancestor Goddess Valaya, one hand holding a goblet, the other a scroll. On the right was himself, wielding a warhammer and gazing in the direction of Quata.

"This was an idea from the collective wisdom of the brothers. Your glorious achievements are already comparable to those kings who expanded territories in the Golden Age!"

Johnson Strongshield said solemnly. Gromril pursed his lips, feeling as if the burden on his shoulders had grown heavier. Entering the fortress, the clansmen along the way first showed surprise upon seeing him, then cheered.

Gromril knew their surprise was partly because of his sudden arrival, and partly because of his short black beard, which only reached his chest. Everyone knew he was Thorgrim's son and not very old, but having been accustomed to lords of middle age and above, they still couldn't help but praise a young hero when they saw one.

"You've arrived. Managing this work is indeed not easy. To be honest, in the Old World, I could barely manage the affairs of our guild."

Gromril entered the lord's office on the upper floor, and Master Nathan looked up from a pile of documents. The Senior Brother pushed up his glasses, stood up, and offered the seat behind the desk to Gromril, then sat opposite him.

"Building roads on both ends, clearing out the undead, reorganizing the fortress, exploring the geomantic network, collecting intelligence from the north, and tallying and allocating supplies. All these trivial matters combined, I'd rather go mining in the shafts. Young people nowadays don't even know how to swing a pickaxe. If you ask me, the mineral deposits here are much richer than the Silver Road, yet it took them weeks to find a meager copper mine."

Master Nathan seemed to have countless complaints, but Gromril chose to listen. He was filled with gratitude for such a Rune Master who traveled thousands of miles to the Southlands without even asking for maintenance fees.

"Overall, Senior Brother, you've done a great job, haven't you? The clansmen always say that beards are a symbol of wisdom, and this is perfectly demonstrated in you." Gromril subtly flattered him.

"Hahaha! That's true, but there are still two young'un who are doing exceptionally well. Otherwise, this old man wouldn't be able to handle it all!" Master Nathan chuckled. After hundreds of years, he had heard such compliments many times.

"Oh? Johnson?" Gromril guessed one.

"That loud-mouthed lad? Two drinks in, he's busy boasting about his good foresight from before, keeping me awake at night!" His Senior Brother leaned back and shook his head.

"One is Erik of the Helheim clan. You should have heard of his clan; their luck has always been rather poor."

"The Helheim clan that once ruled the Bottomless Stair? After the Bottomless Stair fell, they went to Eight Peaks Mountain, and then Eight Peaks Mountain fell shortly after. Haven't they been scattered, trying to make a living, since then?"

Gromril recalled. In his previous life's game, he often used the 'Bottomless Stair miners' and 'Dragonfire Pass Warriors,' two low-level elite units, both related to the Helheim clan, which gave him some understanding.

"That time, when Lord Thurni bestowed divine grace, many clansmen awakened Rune power. That lad Erik also thought he was one of the favored ones and eagerly came to seek you as a master."

"And then? Senior Brother, did you, eager for talent, intercept him?" Gromril asked with a smile.

"Not at all. When I checked, I found he didn't have the talent; it was his family heirloom that was accidentally activated at the time. However, that lad had boasted and was too ashamed to return north, so he stayed to work. Surprisingly, his abilities are quite good. The fortresses in Casket Canyon were supervised by him."

"A blessing in disguise! And the other one?" Gromril continued to ask.

"Bang!"

"Clang!"

Before Master Nathan could answer, a noisy sound came from downstairs. The two Rune Masters stopped their conversation and began to listen to the commotion outside.

"I advise you to be more pragmatic, and first understand your own technical level and design philosophy!"

"The original equipment worked perfectly fine, why do you want to replace it?"

"Every Guild member has the right to submit design blueprints for the Elders to review!"

"By Mogrim, the rules don't state that they exclude blockheads like you! Your work is worse than a rat's. If this continues, we'll lose to humans, then after losing to rats, we'll lose to humans, then to Goblins, and then there will be no clansmen left to lose to!"

As the noisy crowd approached, Gromril got the general gist; it seemed to be an internal conflict within the Engineers Guild.

"These brats who tinker with scrap metal are never peaceful. If you ask me, you are a Rune Smith after all, a chosen of the Ancestor Gods Thurni, and also the Vice-President of the Guild, so it's better not to..."

Master Nathan's rambling started in his ear, making Gromril hear their conversation intermittently.

"What's going on with these engineers?" Gromril interrupted his senior brother's complaints. His plan to use the Rune Guild to counterbalance the Engineers Guild hadn't even been put on the agenda, and they were already starting to fight amongst themselves?

"I'm not sure, and even if I were, it wouldn't be easy for me to resolve it." Master Nathan answered very straightforwardly, which was true but not what Gromril wanted to hear. "However, someone does know, and that's the second person I wanted to mention."

"Who?" Gromril asked.

"Ding!" Master Nathan activated a communication rune, and soon a young man ran in.

"Andumgar!" Gromril was surprised to find that it was an old acquaintance. "After you left to deliver the message, you never reported back. I thought my father had directly kept you at Everpeak!"

"Of course not, my heart has always been here with us. My friends in the Imperium of Man wanted to move here, so I simply did some promotional and organizational work in the Old World. Once we arrived in the Southlands, I still needed to arrange housing and allocate jobs for the clansmen, which dragged on until now."

Gromril was very satisfied with Andumgar's reply. He had a vague premonition when he saw the clansmen in the Helmgart settlement. The rune telegraph system had only just been introduced, and only the most critical information could be directly transmitted to him.

"Tell me what's going on. What's with these engineers?"

"As you know, all large fortresses, except for Lord Arik's Hornburg, have an Engineers Guild, and in the Imperium of Man, many engineers serve the Elector Counts. They responded to your and President Brokk's call to come to the Southlands, but there are many differences in their skills, work habits, and so on."

Gromril nodded. He had been to Zhufbar and had some understanding of the Engineers Guild's situation. Rune Smiths often excavated lost technologies, which had standards to follow. engineers, a profession that emphasized innovation, had no standard answers, and each individual had his own understanding, leading to more conflicts.

"engineers from different places have different views, and even some groups from large fortresses are not united. Those who came to the Southlands are mainly young people looking for opportunities. Everyone refuses to yield to anyone else, and there have been many conflicts and disputes during this time."

Andumgar had a very thorough grasp of the situation, analyzing it for Gromril as if listing his family treasures.

"Has no one intervened?" Gromril couldn't help but ask. "Ah, yes, my senior brother can't easily interfere, and others would find it even more difficult."

In an instant, he gave himself an answer. In dwarf society, guilds and clans were the main building blocks, and many Lords were accustomed to letting their internal affairs be resolved internally.

"Heh heh, why does your Everpeak need to engage in engineering technology? Gromril and Master Krag are pressing down on you like two big rocks!"

"Exactly! If you don't have rune talent, just go blacksmithing and mining!"

"The helicopter squadron of Karaz-A-Karak is now entirely purchased from our Zhufbar, surely you're aware of that?"

"You guys just stop thinking about things that don't concern you. Do what we tell you to do!"

Soon, Gromril heard that the debate downstairs had escalated from discussing the matter at hand to taking sides and attacking an entire group. Before he could react, with a burst of shouts and screams, the situation escalated again.

"Bang!"

"You actually hit someone?!"

"Guards! Where are the guards?!"

"Hitting someone is going too far!" Master Nathan muttered. He hadn't expected that due to his indulgence, the conflict among his subordinates had reached such a point. One must know that in the Mountains Kingdom, due to the sparse population, harming each other had always been a serious crime.

"Clatter!"

As he spoke, soldiers guarding the area rushed in. The dispute was taking place in the fortress's main hall, and Red Cloud Mountain was still on alert, so there was a significant number of garrison forces nearby.

"Boom! Slap!"

"Stop, sto— Ah!"

Unfortunately, these soldiers couldn't control the situation; they let out cries of pain.

"A large-scale conflict?" Gromril muttered to himself. He thought it might be the engineers from Everpeak who had acted together; otherwise, those brave individuals who dared to be among the first to venture to the Southlands wouldn't have been at a disadvantage so quickly.

"These part-time warriors are still a bit lacking in strength, but don't worry, junior brother, I can handle it."

With this happening as soon as Gromril arrived, Master Nathan clearly lost face. He said this while pulling out his communication device. Accompanied by a series of dense "clangs and clatters," his Anvil Guard quickly assembled at the door.

"By the Ancestor Gods, Stoke, go down and restrain those troublemakers for me!" Master Nathan ordered in a deep voice, rubbing the ring on his hand.

"Thump, thump, thump!"

The Anvil Guards jogged down the stairs. Gromril sat back at his desk, beginning to ponder how to handle the aftermath.

As he saw it, the situation was already under control. Even if Master Nathan's Anvil Guard was only half a squad, and only half of them were on duty, they were truly elite!

Twenty warriors in full meteorite iron armor, working in perfect coordination and led by a team leader, would have no problem slaying even weaker giant beasts. Moreover, Gromril knew captain Stoke, that long-bearded veteran, who had always been one of the most formidable warriors in Everpeak.

"young'un, stop! Put your hands on your head and squat down! His Majesty Gromril will judge your crimes!" Stoke's booming voice came up from downstairs.

"Bastard! You're all in on it! You didn't care before, so why are you here now? Huh?" The resistor had no intention of being captured without a fight; his voice was even louder than captain Stoke's.

"Thud!"

"Pffft! Ugh!"

A strike and a muffled groan sounded almost simultaneously.

"Let's go, side by side!"

Master Nathan reached for the forging hammer on the shelf. Clearly, he had recognized the pained cries of his subordinates.

"Crack!"

"Puff!"

"Want to go take a look?"

Master Nathan couldn't sit still. He walked to the door, hammer in hand. Gromril suddenly realized that his senior brother's equipment was similar to his own, perhaps this was the tradition of Rune Smiths.

"Ho! What's this young'un's name, and which clan is he from? How can he be so brave!"

Stepping out of the office door and looking down from the railing, Gromril and his senior brother were both shocked by what they saw. There was no large-scale brawl as they had imagined; instead, there was only a dwarf standing proudly in the center of the hall.

engineers, adventurers, and Anvil Guards lay scattered at his feet. The few remaining guards hid behind meteorite iron shields, or leaned against walls, or relied on pillars to find a sense of security.

"If your abilities were even a tenth as hard as your mouths, you wouldn't have fallen to such a state!"

The dwarf in the center mumbled as he rolled down the sleeves he had rolled up. Gromril didn't see a weapon in his hand. "Did he deal with so many people bare-handed?" This absurd thought appeared in the Lord's mind.

Gromril quickly assessed his own combat power. He doubted that he could take down so many people without activating Avatar of the Gods. Never mind the other adventurers, those twenty Anvil Guards were all battle-hardened veterans!

Even with a set of meteorite iron armor, Gromril's Level 2 Thunder Strike couldn't knock down a whole group at once. If it came to close combat, his short-handled forging hammer could certainly take down one person at a time, but considering the numbers and coordination, he would likely be busy defending and have few opportunities to launch an active attack.

"I am Andumgar-Kazadson, Special Advisor from Red Cloud Mountain!"

Before Gromril and Master Nathan could say anything, Andumgar roared and leaped down from the railing. He rolled forward upon landing to absorb the impact and charged straight at the dwarf. This young Ranger wanted to show off his skills again.

"Overestimating himself!"

Facing the challenger who had descended from above, the dwarf's lips under his black beard curved slightly. He raised his right hand, slowly forming a fist. This movement, seemingly slow, was actually fast. With a loud "Bang!", Andumgar seemed to have directly collided with his fist.

"Thud!"

The Ranger fell straight down. His plate armor was as good as useless, and he lost his combat capability before he even had a chance to make a move.

"Holy crap!"

Gromril blurted out a curse. Andumgar's performance during the expedition was evident to all; such a dwarf hero was literally no match for that young man!

"I, Rogov, the one recognized by Grimbrindal, captain of His Majesty Gromril's guard, am here! Who dares cause trouble!"

Rogov heard the commotion. This warrior, who had found the end of his journey, was also shocked by the scene in the hall, but he bravely stood opposite the dwarf with Gromril's guard.

"Relax, don't be impulsive, warrior. Let's talk slowly!" Gromril was also coming down the stairs at this time. His appearance caused a burst of cheers; the clansmen seemed to have found their backbone.

"Greetings, Your Majesty!" The standing dwarf seemed to have vented most of his anger. He bowed slightly to Gromril.

"What made you commit such a taboo, to actively attack our compatriots?" Gromril's voice was calm. His long tenure in power had gradually taught him how to soothe people's hearts. He simultaneously released the Valaya Ritual, and amidst flashes of green light, the injuries of the fallen clansmen were healed.

With the reclamation of the Ancestor Gods' homeland and the development of the Southern World's Edge Mountains, the satisfaction and cohesion of the entire Mountains Kingdom were raised to an unprecedented level since the Great Earthquake. This was accompanied by devout faith in the Ancestor Gods and more enthusiastic work. All of these combined made Gromril's Revival Points almost inexhaustible.

"I must reiterate, unless it's an extremely special circumstance, actively harming fellow clansmen should not be encouraged!" He scanned the clansmen in the hall, and his prestige and divine grace made the injured who had sprung up lower their heads and eyes. Competition could be allowed, but it had to be kept within reasonable bounds.

"Your Majesty, they, these scoundrels! Attacked me, attacked my skills and creativity, and even attacked my Guild and even my clan! You tell me, can I tolerate it!"

Mentioning the injustice he had just suffered, the young man's temper flared up again. "The fellows from Zhufbar and Sea Gate, relying on the Engineers Guild headquarters being on their side, are so arrogant that even the pointy-eared ones can hardly compare to them!"

"Your Majesty, don't listen to his nonsense, Gotrek's ideas are completely chaotic, he actually wants to..."

A defeated engineer was still unconvinced. He hid behind Gromril and shouted, but Gromril froze when he heard the name he uttered. He didn't hear a single word of what followed.

"You, what's your name? Gotrek?"

Gromril asked, trembling. In fact, the name Gotrek, like his own "Gromril," was a common choice in the current Mountains Kingdom. At least one out of ten male Dwarves was named one of these two names, and another would be a derivative of them.

"Gromril" came from the White Dwarf Gromril Whitebeard; "Gotrek" came from High King Gotrek Starbreaker during the War of the Beard. These two were widely recognized as the greatest kings and heroes in all the Dwarf Holds, and naming children after them carried a beautiful wish.

"Gotrek Gurnisson, just a commoner."

"Gurnisson?" Gromril murmured. This, like his own Thorson, meant son of Grini. But the Gotrek he was looking for had taken the Slayer Oath when he started out, so his surname was not often displayed in public.

However, judging by the astonishing combat power he had just displayed, Gromril could say with ten-tenths certainty that the Gotrek in front of him was the "most failed Slayer" he was looking for.

The dwarf superman Gotrek had a scribe who specialized in documenting his epic adventures. He was always seeking death, but the heads he had cut off were enough to make most Bloodthirsters blush. Of course, he had also banished the Greater Daemons of the The Four Gods more than once.

In his previous life, when Gromril read about Mr. Gao's illustrious military achievements, he always wondered if he would instantly ascend to daemonhood if he shouted, "Blood for the Blood God, skulls for the Skull Throne."

"Ahem, you, are you currently employed at the Engineers Guild?" Gromril licked his lips. He knew he had to secure the dwarf in front of him, and he knew he would inevitably secure him.

"Indeed, but I should be heading to Butcher Keep soon." Gotrek sighed and raised his fists in front of him. Everyone in the hall's eyes converged on those hammer-sized iron fists, which were truly more deadly than cannons!