Chapter 28 - Cathay

"You should indeed go north, but probably not now," Gromril muttered.

The current Gotrek did not seem to have found Grimnir's lost axe yet. Gromril had considered that item at the beginning of his Crossing, but with a severe lack of intelligence, he wasn't confident about venturing into the Chaos Wastes.

"I have always promoted talent. With your ability, I would have recommended you to the High King for a position like a Thunderer captain. But attacking your own clansmen is a very serious offense! I must impose some punishment on you to set an example," Gromril said loudly, his mind turning.

"Gotrek Gurnisson, I hereby declare your engineer qualifications revoked! From now on, atone for your actions today as a warrior. Now, go to the armory and get a set of equipment, quickly!"

Gromril swiftly announced the decision. To the surrounding clansmen, it seemed a bit light, but then again, the injured had been healed by divine grace, so such a punishment was understandable given that no serious consequences had occurred.

The onlookers dispersed. Gromril checked his system and found that public order was not good. He thought carefully, and this might be due to long journeys, unaccustomed environments, insufficient logistical supplies, and so on.

Large-scale population migration would inevitably bring such side effects, and Senior Brother Nathan's inaction exacerbated this. Gromril truly realized why appointing a lord could immediately suppress corruption and improve public order.

"This is also my problem. At that time, I didn't clearly define my senior brother's power and responsibilities, so he couldn't easily manage things." A mature manager also reflects on himself. Gromril was previously in the process of expanding his territory, and the appointments he made were more like City Defense Commanders than City Lords. As the situation stabilized, he indeed needed to make some adjustments.

"Give Gotrek the best equipment, then call him to my office!" Gromril instructed his subordinates.

"Thank you for your generosity, Your Majesty!"

A few minutes later, Gotrek, now clad in a set of exquisite runic equipment from Iron Peak Fortress, walked in. He stood at the doorway and greeted Gromril.

Looking closely at this famous dwarf, Gromril found him to be younger than he had imagined, though his exceptionally thick beard made him look more mature.

"It's inevitable for young people to have a lot of fire, but they still need to exercise some restraint. It's also my dereliction of duty that I haven't properly settled you all who answered my call and came to the Southlands."

Gromril nodded. There wasn't much recorded about how Gotrek embarked on the path of a Slayer, but it was roughly due to harming his own clansmen. His arrival changed the original history, but how to prevent the tragedy from repeating was also something he had to consider.

"Tell me your story. With your abilities, why did you become an engineer?" Gromril prompted.

"Our Mountains are in a time of crisis. Except for the Southlands under your rule, the other fortresses are not doing well. At this juncture, learning literature or history won't even protect yourself, so how can one talk about achieving great deeds?"

Gotrek had a distinctly traditional dwarf mindset, and Gromril had no intention of debating the importance of cultural education with him.

"Learning martial arts and becoming a warrior can only solve the problem of a few enemies in front of you. Those damned rats and greenskins are everywhere, filling every pit and valley. How can a short axe kill them all? In my opinion, to revitalize our Mountains, one must learn engineering!"

"Hiss…"

Gotrek's words were powerful, and the few dwarves in the office couldn't help but sway. His heroic posture of fighting multiple enemies, one punch at a time, was still vivid in their minds, but they hadn't expected him to have such a deep understanding of the bigger picture.

Gromril, who knew the future, agreed even more. After becoming a Slayer, Gotrek fought Greater Daemons, slew dragons, and killed countless greenskins, rats, Beastmen, and Chaos cultists, but he alone, with one axe, still couldn't save the world.

"Your Majesty, I have a few design blueprints here; please take a look!" The atmosphere reached its peak, and Gotrek pulled out a blueprint from his Pregnant and handed it over.

"Wow!"

Gromril didn't dare to delay. He spread out the blueprint, and Master Nathan, Andumgar, and Rogov all gathered around.

"What do you call this?"

A moment later, Gromril frowned and looked up.

"A two-way rifle!" Gotrek proudly puffed out his chest. "From my observations, our clansmen are most afraid of being ambushed from front and back by rats when working underground. My invention adds a reverse barrel to a Thunderer, precisely to solve this problem!"

"Oh, this…"

Gromril was stunned. His expression stiffened, and he unfolded another blueprint.

"This, what is this again? An Organ Gun?"

"You could call it that! Those damned bastards are more numerous than foam on beer. Our predecessors developed the Organ Gun to deal with large groups of enemies, but artillery is expensive and inconvenient to move! I designed this based on it. In my opinion, four barrels are too few, too conservative, so I made eight; the power will be doubled!"

"In a narrow underground network, one shot, hey, those rats…" Gotrek gesticulated as he spoke, deeply proud of his invention, like every engineer. But Gromril and the few people around him all had a look of amused exasperation.

"This, my friend, although I'm not a professional, haven't you considered the recoil?"

Gromril licked his lips. He knew that the Thunderer's recoil was already strong enough, and Human shooters had to train specifically to use them. This "Organ Gun" fired eight shots at once; before killing the enemy, the user would be shaken apart first.

"No problem! I made a prototype, and it was perfectly stable during live-fire tests! It's a pity that the old masters in our Everpeak guild have such poor eyesight, and the engineers at Zhufbar and Sea Gate are all so arrogant…"

Gotrek complained loudly. This young, inexplicably strong individual hadn't realized the fundamental difference between himself and his clansmen.

"Ah, ahem, you, your design is good, but don't design anymore!" Gromril lost his temper. He now empathized with those engineers. "Everyone has different talents, and I believe the battlefield is a good place for you to realize your value."

While sending Gotrek back to pack his luggage, Gromril himself also began to prepare gifts. Human immigrants, moving upriver, had already passed Khemri and were about to arrive at Quata.

He was going to the port to welcome those Humans, formulate resettlement measures on-site, and set an example for subsequent immigrants. At the same time, he also needed to visit Quata's Priest King again to try and expand the port area.

After staying for two more days, Gromril set off for Quata on the exact date. This stretch of road could be considered the welcoming avenue of the entire Southern World's Edge Mountains, and Master Nathan had been repairing it since he took office.

Building roads in the desert meant facing strong winds, abundant sand, complex and ever-changing terrain, and a lack of engineering materials and water. Fortunately, this section was not long, and the natural conditions were not so harsh due to its proximity to mountains and water.

The surveyed route avoided quicksand areas. The compacted roadbed was secondary for pedestrian use; its primary purpose was to facilitate the movement of animal-drawn carts and skeletal chariots, which previously would easily get stuck in the sand.

Gromril first went to Tutankhamun III's pyramid. This Priest King was a capable ruler in history. During his lifetime, he had been engaged in a battle of wits with tomb robbers coveting the burial treasures in Casket Canyon, a struggle that continued after his awakening.

Looking at the ornate skeleton, Gromril felt a degree of sympathy. Perhaps eternal life in this manner was worse than eternal sleep! He offered a batch of dwarf jewelry and newly acquired Cathay artifacts, naturally gaining the right to expand the port.

"My King, this is our lifeline!" Gotrek's voice rang out as he looked at the bustling port. Gromril's emphasis greatly pleased this young strongman; encountering a patron early in one's career was always a good thing.

Leviathan Slayer Rogov failed to last more than a few moves against Gotrek in their sparring match, a result Gromril was not at all surprised by. He directly appointed Gotrek as the deputy captain of his guard, a position roughly equivalent to Captain Grenson's previous role in the Eternal Hammer Guard.

"But with all due respect, we cannot rely solely on this one line, especially since the portion of it under our control is not that extensive!"

The young man was powerful, but not reckless; otherwise, he wouldn't have embarked on the engineer's path and produced so many outlandish designs.

"You're absolutely right. Go on, do you have any suggestions for improvement?" Gromril prompted him.

"Open up a trade route to Araby, or clear one to Iron Peak Fortress!" Gotrek replied after a brief thought. In fact, these were the only two ways to reach the Old World.

"Then which one do you think would be easier to manage?" Gromril asked next.

"Hmm, if you ask me, it's still Karak-Azgal. The route is already there, isn't it?" Gotrek tapped the runic plate armor on his body. This fine piece from Iron Peak Fortress would be worth dozens of oath-gold coins on the market.

"There are pros and cons to each. Trade caravans from Iron Peak Fortress to Everpeak suffer heavy losses on every trip. The meaning of warriors fighting a round trip through the Badlands is completely different from protecting carts of goods on a round trip."

Gromril muttered, this problem had always been on his mind. In his previous life, even Commander Liu in that famous work had "three legs"; if one "big leg" broke, it wouldn't be a major disaster. For him, Gromril, relying on only one leg to hop around would be too unsafe.

"Are you planning to reclaim the Badlands? Those ork big 'uns are tough! Be sure to let me be the vanguard!" Gotrek shouted, currently eager for opportunities to achieve merit.

"Yes, that day will come." Gromril mumbled as he gazed out, and soon a fleet of sailboats appeared from the west.

"Let me see!" The Dwarf King took the telescope. He saw a family crest, a blue background with a golden face, painted on the leading ship's sail: a manann trident representing the God of the Sea, supporting a crown.

"Our friends have come in person," Gromril said, looking at the crest. This was the mark of the Duke of Bordeleaux. He actually wanted to equip Constantine, his most important human ally, with communication runes, but the anvil of doom simply didn't have any to spare.

"Prepare to fire a salute, welcome these friends from the Knight Kingdom!" Gromril announced, turning back.

A gun salute is a ceremony originating from the navy, where warships, upon entering a foreign port, fire all ammunition from their cannons to show no hostility before being allowed to dock or pass.

This practice gradually evolved into both a friendly act of disarming oneself and a gesture of respect to the other party. In addition to warships firing salutes, the port should also return the salute.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

The sound of cannon fire rang out, one shot after another.

"Flap! Flap!"

A flock of skeletal vultures perched on the pyramid's summit was startled and flew away.

"Welcome, Knights of Bretonnia! The Southern World's Edge Mountains will be your new home!" Gromril said loudly as the fleet docked and a large crowd of humans poured out.

"It's been a few years, who would have thought that in such a short time we would all become His Majesty?"

Constantine was the first to step forward. Time seemed to have left little trace on this Duke, who had received divine grace. He looked just as young, but his temperament had transformed from the initial defiance of a seaman to the steady demeanor of a superior.

"The hidden Chaos is constantly expanding, and this world faces a huge threat. How can we stand still?" Gromril shook his head. In the current mortal realm, few people could understand his worries about the End Times.

"We initially underestimated the task of population migration, but we didn't expect you to have such great influence and such perfect timing," Constantine praised, Gromril's performance exceeding his expectations.

"King Charlemagne cleared out the Greenskins, which temporarily reduced the defensive pressure on various duchies; otherwise, they wouldn't dare to allow their population to leave. Plus, The Lady of the Lake's oracle—I really don't know how you managed it!"

"Hahaha, this is a mutually beneficial matter. This is not the place to talk. Let the immigrants disembark and rest; there's still a long way to go!"

Under the urging of the Knight lords and their retainers, groups of farmers, with their families and tools, poured out of the ship's hold. Gromril could smell some peculiar odors from afar; these poor people had suffered a lot during the long voyage. Their first time on a ship being such a long journey was undoubtedly a torment.

"Notify logistics to get them some meat!" Gromril shook his head. He knew these issues shouldn't be his concern, but upon arriving in the Southlands, he still had to fulfill his duties as a host. Since Nagash's actions, natural resources had been undeveloped for thousands of years, and there was an abundance of birds and beasts.

The farmers were simply cleaning up by the river. The first batch of Knights rode up to Gromril and Constantine.

"There are thirteen Knights in this batch, and by standard, each of them brought three hundred people, including farmers and soldiers!" Constantine introduced them one by one. Three hundred people was roughly the population of a small village at this stage.

"You are all ambitious and insightful individuals. I believe we will cooperate very well going forward!"

Carts and skeletal carriages transported the goods brought by the humans along the road to Red Cloud Mountain. Gromril was surprised to find that the transport he had prepared was enough to carry everything in just one trip.

This was because the poor farmers had very few possessions, nothing more than farm tools, eating utensils, and clothes. The knights, on the other hand, had spent most of their wealth to pay for the land, and the remaining valuables were easily carried by their own mounts.

"Fortunately, I didn't skip the knight class and go straight for farmers."

Gromril shook his head secretly as he watched the slow procession. He had interacted and cooperated with peasant troops during his time in Bretonnia, but he hadn't expected that those conscripted for battle were already the cream of the crop among the dwarfs, and these immigrants were even worse.

"Merciful Shallya above!"

"May our lords not sell us to devils!"

"Those dwarfs, I hear they'll treat us like livestock!"

The serfs of Bretonnia were different from the free people and individual merchants of the Imperium of Man. They had no upward mobility and were exploited to the point where only their physical forms remained in the world. Rather than saving them from the root, Gromril felt it would be quicker to get them into production and generate revenue.

"Everyone, your rights and responsibilities are clear, aren't they?" Sitting in the restaurant on Red Cloud Mountain, after a hearty meal, Gromril looked at the knights before him.

"Of course, of course!"

"We swear by The Lady of the Lake that we will abide by the terms of the contract!"

"Esteemed Dwarf King, quickly let us see our territories!"

Almost all of the first thirteen knights were related by blood to the current duke, which was why they were the quickest to gather the gold to buy land and the serfs to develop their territories.

"Alright, Constantine promised me that you, the most active pioneers, are entitled to some preferential treatment, such as choosing the best land first!"

Gromril said, unfolding a map of the Lost Plateau. He divided the plateau into three large sections, using three fortresses as reference points, and then further broke down these large sections into several medium-sized blocks. These medium-sized blocks were secondary administrative centers, planned to be developed into towns. Surrounding these towns would be individual knight estates.

These knights had been informed in advance of Gromril's plan to build a railway, and they unhesitatingly claimed plots of land around the fortresses and along the railway line. This played right into Gromril's hands; such a large project as railway construction could not be completed quickly by dwarfs alone, and mobilizing human resources was also within consideration if necessary.

"Rest for one more day tomorrow, everyone can visit nearby, and then we should depart. If we miss this year's spring plowing, the pressure on subsequent food supplies will be significant!"

After giving his final instructions, Gromril left the restaurant. He still needed to mobilize the dwarf immigrants who had already gathered on Red Cloud Mountain. Construction on Red Cloud Mountain and its surroundings had reached a temporary halt, and many other large projects awaited his clansmen.

Returning along the way, Gromril settled the humans and allocated his clansmen to build residences for them and assist in land reclamation. The policy of 'work for relief' had been well-researched; the knights would give money to Gromril, and Gromril would then arrange for the dwarfs to start work. This way, even the most conservative Longbeard Elder couldn't find fault.

Demonbane Fortress also didn't disappoint Gromril this time. After he had given his stern warning, the masters finally reached an agreement and began construction. Gromril planned for Demonbane Fortress to be built before the railway, to serve as a crucial transit hub.

"Finally, I'm back!"

The hidden gate of Highland Fortress appeared in Gromril's sight. Several Rune Guardians at the entrance diligently carried out their guard duties. Gromril felt that while Temple Guardians were powerful, living beings, when compared, were still not as good as stone statues.

"I hope my territory can smoothly get on track in the future, and that plans don't fall behind changes!" Gromril muttered, sitting at his desk. He had a very important task to do next, which was to study the information Otlax provided about the spirit veins.

Currently, Gromril felt his strength had reached a bottleneck. As his level increased, the experience required for each level also increased. The experience gained from small-scale security battles was probably a drop in the bucket, and mastering Rune techniques required painstaking effort. Therefore, he turned his attention to methods of extracting power from the earth.

"I need a system to oversee things for me. Who should I entrust this task to?" Gromril mumbled to himself. This was an unprecedented institution in dwarf society, but there were many examples in his previous life.

The situation in his territory was complex now. After introducing humans, the original patriarchal and relatively mild legal system of dwarf society could no longer keep up. It operated on the basis of a small dwarf population that was loyal and less susceptible to corruption.

Compared to the rulers of his previous life, Gromril didn't need to expend too much effort on eliminating dissidents, but the spread of Chaos worship, the pervasive infiltration of Skaven and Vampires, and what he considered "The Lady of the Lake's infiltration" also needed to be taken seriously.

"Andumgar, it still has to be him." Gromril had limited personnel. This Ranger had ideas, ability, experience, and was an orphan without clan influence behind him, making him the most suitable choice.

"My King, what do you command?" Soon, the young man appeared in the office.

"I have an important task for you. Do you have the ability and courage to accomplish it?" Gromril asked.

"I have never feared any challenge!" the Ranger replied with a resounding voice.

"Good, I need to organize a supervisory body and a secret police agency. On one hand, it's to deal with potential unstable factors that might brew among humans and our clansmen."

"Similar to a Witch Hunter?" Andumgar quickly found a similar institution in this world.

"Exactly. We must guard against everything Witch Hunters guard against, and we must also guard against what they don't, understand?"

Gromril's lips curved slightly. Helmgart Fortress was sandwiched between the Empire and Bretonnia. Andumgar, who had lived there, understood immediately, and he returned a mischievous smile.

"But your task is not limited to this. You will also be responsible for supervising officials. Ensure they are diligent in their duties and incorruptible in their service," Gromril continued.

These matters would normally be achieved through the gentle checks and balances between clan guilds. But now, with the rapid development of the territory and its large scale, Gromril couldn't rely on tradition to solve them.

"I understand, but this requires manpower. Even if some can be supplemented by part-timers, there must be some full-time staff," Andumgar said, proving his relevant experience with his quick reaction.

"Go back and write me a report on funding, staffing, and supplies. Anything within a reasonable scope will be approved!" Gromril waved his hand, knowing that to make a horse run, you first have to feed it well.

"My King, does this organization of ours, or rather, this agency, have a name? I need a banner to recruit troops!" Just as Andumgar was about to leave, he suddenly turned back and asked Gromril.

"A name?" Gromril frowned, and names like the CIA, KGB, Gestapo, MI5 immediately came to his mind, but then a mischievous thought welled up.

"Western Depot. Let's call it Western Depot."

"Western Depot, what does that mean?" Andumgar looked puzzled.

"It's named because your office is on the west side of the fortress," Gromril chuckled, "Besides, I think it sounds very mysterious, don't you?"

The young Ranger nodded thoughtfully. With Gromril's suggestion, he also felt that for a secret surveillance agency, a simple and clear name that outsiders couldn't quite grasp was quite evocative.

"I'll give you a slogan: Execute first, report later, by royal decree, that is the Western Depot!" When dealing with Chaos cultists, there's no time for slow consultations and reports; the power to execute first and report later is essential.

Andumgar, of course, didn't know the story of Dragon Gate Inn. He murmured, repeating this grand declaration, and left with full hope for the future.

"Now it's time to wait for the harvest," Gromril mumbled, leaning back in his chair. He began to delve into the knowledge in his mind.

Soon after, the Archmage of Dawn Fortress delivered two treasures provided by Teclis. It seemed that even for the Chief Archmage, using public resources for private gain required some procedures.

The enhancement from the Crown of Wisdom made Gromril feel clear-headed and more focused. Several months passed in a flash, and a telegraph operator interrupted Gromril's thoughts with a document.

"My King, a telegram from Zhufbar!"

"I hope it's good news!" Gromril shook his head. His research progress on the geomantic network was not very encouraging. This knowledge, in its original design, was not meant to be mastered by creatures other than the Slann. If it weren't for the dwarves' good affinity with the earth, he would probably still be utterly confused.

"Breakthrough in locomotive technology, using warpstone as fuel, excellent, excellent!"

Gromril nodded as he read the telegram. On this point, he had long reached a consensus with Brockson. If the Skaven could utilize warpstone, a mineral with immense energy density per unit volume, then the dwarves naturally could too.

Although it had the significant drawback of instability, making it perform only the simplest, most basic task of powering a steam engine would still keep it controllable.

"But why should we use the rats' magic stones?" Young Nori asked casually.

"Energy issues. The Southlands don't have many coal resources, and who knows whose fault that is. Transporting coal from the Old World is too expensive, and it's not very safe either."

Gromril didn't continue, knowing Nori wanted to ask if there was no coal, then surely there wasn't enough warpstone. But in fact, the Mountains Kingdom did have warpstone, both as a byproduct of mining and as spoils of war from the rats. These polluting substances had all been sealed away by the Rune Masters and were rarely mentioned publicly.

"Fellow kinsmen, welcome everyone to the inauguration ceremony of the Southern World's Edge Mountains Rune Smith Guild and the Engineers Guild Hall! First, I want to thank all colleagues who contributed to the construction of the hall and the preparation of the guilds!"

With Brockson solving key technical problems and bringing a group of official engineers promised by the Engineers Guild headquarters to establish a branch in Highland Fortress, Gromril could finally push forward the local talent development system.

"…I will concurrently serve as the President of the Rune Smith Guild. As the chosen of the revered Thurni and a disciple of Master Krag, I possess perseverance, patience, and determination. I am willing to dedicate all my knowledge and lifelong abilities to promote the Way of Runes and pass on the skills I have mastered… "

"Facing the development of the times and the increasing threat from hostile forces, we must recognize the urgency and challenges, and foster proactiveness and creativity. I hope that everyone in Karak-Zorn can raise their awareness of potential dangers and their eagerness to learn, allowing traditional and emerging technologies to combine organically, developing new methods with Southlands characteristics, and reaching new levels and realms… "

"My speech ends here. Next, please welcome the Southern World's Edge Mountains Branch President, the Mountains Kingdom's youngest Engineering Master, Brockson, to deliver his address. A warm welcome to him!"

In dwarf society, lengthy speeches and historical allusions were already a major characteristic of a lord's address. Gromril creatively combined his fragmentary memories from his previous life with current needs, and his unique speaking style garnered him a large number of followers.

"Do you have any thoughts or directions for your future studies?"

After the ceremony, Gromril sat in the guild hall, looking at ten young dwarves standing in a row. These youngsters had just passed fifty, which by dwarf standards meant they had just transitioned from childhood to adolescence, and their beards hadn't even grown out yet!

"No!"

"We will follow your instructions, Master."

These young dwarf lads were all promising talents selected from small settlements and Imperial dwarf communities. Their hometowns lacked their own Rune Masters, which is why they traveled thousands of miles to the Southlands for training. Precisely because of this, they lacked a systematic understanding of the Way of Runes and didn't have much prior knowledge.

"I must find an opportunity to visit the Imperial College of Magic!" Gromril pinched the bridge of his nose. If he were to decide, he wanted to teach his first batch of apprentices according to their aptitudes, but these youngsters had no foundation, so he could only teach them from scratch.

"Then, in the future, you'll have classes in the morning and review in the afternoon. Once you have a preliminary grasp of runes, you'll be put into practical work. Practice makes perfect, and repeated practice is also a very good way to improve."

Gromril mumbled. In the construction of railways and fortresses, certain key nodes needed to be reinforced with runes. Combining runic technology with engineering had always been something Zhufbar was doing, and Gromril also planned to promote this method in the Southlands.

Building railways was a long process, but fortunately, a completed section could be used immediately. Gromril decided to start building from Red Cloud Mountain, as it was the gateway to the Southlands and had relatively higher utilization.

Amidst busy and fulfilling work, another year came to an end. The upcoming year was dwarf Calendar 6949, which translates to Human Calendar 2426.

"Now, things are finally on track, I suppose!" Sitting in his office, Gromril reviewed the documents before him. The temperature in the Southlands was constantly high, and even winter in the Mountains was at most just cool. Without seeing the snow-capped Everpeak, Gromril felt that this year had passed somewhat unrealistically.

"The human harvest this year is enough for their needs next year, even with the poor yields from newly cultivated land. Next year's harvest will be even better, but there will also be new immigrants, so the current food policy must be maintained."

Gromril muttered as he wrote, finding food and work for his people was his main job. "The railway construction has started. The first small section requires overcoming technical difficulties, but it should go more smoothly afterward."

"The training of disciples, well, is still in the theoretical learning phase. No need to rush, just solidify the foundation. The establishment of the Western Depot is taking shape; Andumgar has found several dedicated personnel who are currently developing connections in various taverns and villages."

"As for diplomatic relations, there haven't been any new breakthroughs yet. With the Southlands, either there's nothing to discuss or agreements have been reached. However, I think changes will come soon. Linghu Zhengde and his group should be back in Cathay after their tour of the Old World, according to them, they should be arriving around now…"

While Gromril was busy in his Karak-Zorn office, far to the east, across the vast ocean that Cathayans called the Azure Sea or the Far Reaching Sea, a massive and prosperous city stood on the eastern side of the Cathay continent.

This was Fuzhou City, the capital of Cathay's Weidong Province. Everyone fortunate enough to visit believed she was one of the world's largest international cities, on par with Marienburg, Lothern, and Shang-Yang.

Beneath the towering city walls, even in the depths of winter, ships still came and went in the ice-free harbor of Waveless Lake. A few naval warships with azure sails patrolled, maintaining order. Dragon Lord Yin Yin commanded the Dragon Fleet, stationed here, ensuring no petty scoundrels dared cause trouble.

Inside the city, lanterns were hung everywhere, creating a festive New Year atmosphere. Myriad lights flickered, bright and dim. Traffic flowed endlessly, pedestrians jostled shoulder to shoulder, and vendors' cries filled the air. Besides humans, many other races could be seen on the streets, yet everything seemed to be in perfect harmony, emanating an aura of tranquility.

Cathayans had an obsessive dedication to the balance of Yin and Yang, unable to tolerate even the slightest deviation. Correspondingly, if they successfully maintained the balance of Yin and Yang, achieving what they called Tranquility, all actions would become more proactive.

Some believed that Tranquility was the essence of the Grand Cathayan Empire. Besides the happiness of its people and their unwavering loyalty, in military thought, Cathayan generals often used Yin and Yang to describe different aspects of various battlefield elements, such as the perfect combination of ranged firepower and solid defenses.

Suddenly, the Tranquility seemed to be broken, as a flying creature shot from the horizon with extreme speed.

"Who dares trespass in Fuzhou airspace!"

As the creature approached Fuzhou City's city tower, two Sky-Lanterns rose. These were hot-air balloon-like flying war machines, their lift provided by Vermillion Birds in cages, whose burning wings enabled the massive balloons to ascend.

A sturdy general leaned out of the Sky-Lantern's cabin and roared. Several Crane Gunners behind him aimed their deadly weapons, fixed beneath the Sky-Lanterns, at the newcomer.

"I am a messenger from Kuaiji City, with an urgent dispatch for the Dragon Lord!"

The messenger reined in his mount mid-air. He was riding a vibrantly colored Dragon-Steed with two horns and a pair of wings on its ribs. Both rider and steed were clad in heavy armor, yet their speed was still remarkable.

"A Dragon-kind delivering a message!"

The guarding general, seeing the Dragon-Steed cavalryman, grumbled with a curl of his lip. Though Dragon Children were rare, they had existed for a long time, so there were many Dragon-blooded descendants within the Grand Cathayan Empire.

These Dragon-blooded descendants usually held high positions, not only out of respect for their lineage but also due to the power their Dragon-blood brought. This also caused some jealousy and resentment among high-ranking mortals.

Those Dragon-blooded who had not yet attained prominent positions or preferred to fight for honor in the Celestial Army would become Dragon-Steed cavalry. Only Dragon-blooded descendants were permitted to ride Dragon-Steeds, which also possessed divine Dragon blood.

"Hmph, enter! Fly higher for me, do not disturb the common people. Interfering with the order of Yin and Yang is a responsibility you cannot bear!"

The guarding general waved his hand, and the two Sky-Lanterns shifted left and right, opening a passage. The rider slapped his Dragon-Steed, and they quickly ascended, soaring over the city tower and heading straight for the palace within the city.

"By Zong Ji's command, admit the messenger!"

"By Zong Ji's command, admit the messenger!"

One after another, great doors opened. The Dragon-blooded rider dismounted, took the intelligence cylinder from his mount's back, and walked quickly inside, head slightly bowed. Along the way, the guards holding long halberds caught his eye.

These were Celestial Dragon Guards, who basically only appeared by the side of the True Dragons. They wore the finest equipment of the Cathay Empire—Celestial Swords and armor forged in the Kunlan Workshops.

"Present it!"

The messenger quickly passed through three layers of doors. He stopped before the final grand hall, from which a clear voice emanated.

"Yes!"

The messenger knelt with a 'thud!', holding up the letter with both hands. A graceful maid in silk attire received it.

"Zou Qilin? I once heard he was unremarkable, yet he possesses such courage! The previous reports were indeed inaccurate." The clear female voice seemed to be questioning those around her.

"Replying to Zong Ji, Zou Qilin is from Shanyin, of military background, and has risen through merit to the fifth-rank position of Governor-General of Logistics." The female official's voice, aided by the echoing walls, also sounded very resonant.

"Where is he now?" Yin Yin asked.

"Lord Zou was anxious to return but encountered a storm. His ship was damaged, and he is still recuperating in Kuaiji."

"Summon him quickly to the hall… Hmm, this matter is too important, I shall go in person! Issue my command, the Imperial Guard shall accompany me!"

The Dragon Lord's voice, like the sudden surge of ocean waves, became quite authoritative. No sooner had she spoken than a woman in a green and blue mixed ruqun dress emerged from the grand hall.

The Dragon-blooded messenger quickly lowered his head, but the young man still raised his eyes to secretly observe the mistress of Weidong Province.

"Water flows wet, fire burns dry, such is the Way of Yin and Yang!"

Yin Yin looked up at the sky, and as if accompanying her gaze, thick dark clouds appeared in the air.

"It's raining, it's raining!"

"Bring in the laundry!"

The messenger could hear the residents of Fuzhou City exclaiming at the sudden change in weather. "Boom!" A violent clap of thunder followed immediately.

"Ah!"

This was truly a case of "a young child, how could he hear the sound of thunder." While the messenger was stunned, the woman disappeared, and a True Dragon, also azure blue, appeared in mid-air.

"Roar!"

Transformed into her dragon form, Yin Yin seemed to shed some kind of restraint. With a long dragon roar, she shook her head and tail, ascending into the clouds. A squadron of Dragon-Steed cavalry also rose into the sky, flying directly southward.

"Thud!"

The messenger sighed in relief. Already on the verge of collapse under the dragon's might, he sank to the ground.

The speed of flying in the air was incomparable to that on the ground. The dark clouds brought by the Dragon Lord's transformation seemed not to have dissipated yet when Yin Yin had already rushed from her ruling center to the border of her territory.

"Boom!"

The Dragon Lord landed with a whoosh beneath Kuaiji City. Her mane on her back and the dragon whiskers under her jaw fluttered in the wind, and she transformed back into the graceful southern woman in an azure blue dress.

"Grand Commandant has arrived!"

"Grand Commandant has arrived!"

Such a big commotion naturally alerted the defenders of Kuaiji City. They quickly opened the gates and welcomed the Dragon Lord and her belated Dragon Fleet cavalry into the city.

"Where is Zou Qilin? Come see me at once!"

Yin Yin walked swiftly, heading towards the central City Lord's Mansion while giving orders to her about.

"Long live the Grand Commandant! Long live the Grand Commandant!"

"Dragon Lord Zong Ji, protect all sides!"

The arrival of the Dragon Lord brought joy to her people. The lives of the Grand Cathayan Empire's citizens were quite good at the moment, with the four Dragon Lords guarding the four directions, creating external conditions for the people to live in peace and work happily.

Yin Yin had long dealt with harassment from the sea. Besides the Vampire Pirates and Dark Elves pirates, further east of Cathay was a country called Nippon, which was closer to Cathay, and its lords also had expansionist ambitions.

Beyond the ocean, Weidong Province also had to help Wei Nan Province share some of the pressure from the Lizardmen in the Kurish Jungle. The cold-blooded and fanatical Naga Lizardmen coveted everything in Cathay, while Li Dao, the Azure Dragon stationed in Fuhong City, had to suppress The Monkey King of the Paradise Mountain Range and various enemies from Ind.

"Greetings, Admiral! Long live the Admiral! Long live the Admiral!"

Zou Qilin heard the news and walked out of the inn. He knew the importance of the message, and the Dragon Lord's personal arrival was within his expectations. The Dragon Lords were capable and had great responsibilities, all holding multiple positions, so this Grand Commandant, who belonged to the Dragon Fleet, chose to address her as Admiral.

"Come inside to speak!" Yin Yin gave a look, and the guards who came with her dispersed with a "clatter," each taking a corner around the inn.

"Rain!"

The Dragon Lord frowned, still feeling it wasn't enough. With a flick of her delicate hand, the dark clouds that were about to dissipate in the sky gathered again, and a fine, silken rain began to fall with a "swish, swish."

These were not ordinary raindrops. If someone who could wield the Winds of Magic were to feel them, this rain curtain also had the effect of blocking prying eyes. Some of the Dragon Emperor's children, in their long lives, besides the innate Yin and Yang magic, also learned other skills.

"Is what the letter says true? Is there proof?" Yin Yin walked into the inn, turned, and sat in the main seat.

"I wouldn't dare deceive the Admiral. The contract is here, and we also have the Western treasures we purchased!" Zou Qilin straightened his upper body. His attendants, including Linghu Zhengde, brought out the contract and the goods.

Yin Yin hastily glanced inside the box, then unrolled the scroll and read it carefully. "How vast is the power of the Dwarf race!" The Dragon Lord exclaimed when she saw that the signatory was again a dwarf.

"To the Admiral, your subordinates were also greatly shocked when we first saw the dwarves in the Southlands! The Southlands dwarves are of the same lineage as the Western dwarves, and the Lord of the Southlands is the son of the current Dwarf King of the West."

Zou Qilin understood the Dragon Lord's question. The territory of the Grand Cathayan Empire was roughly similar to that of the Qin Dynasty, without the grandeur of Gromril's previous life in China, so hearing that the Dwarf race had a continent-spanning domain was naturally surprising.

"That Dwarf race is meticulous, and their co-ruler, Thorgrim, even calls himself the Grudge-bearer. However, King Gromril of the Southlands does not act like his father; he is quite skilled in trade and colonization, willing to exchange goods with the Grand Cathayan Empire and form an alliance."

"Excellent! I once heard that the Dwarf King's title was not Grudge-bearer, you…" The Dragon Lord suddenly remembered something.

"Admiral, do not doubt. These Western customs are unlike Cathay. Although dwarves have long lifespans, they are not immortal. Their kings are not hereditary but are chosen from among the wise," Zou Qilin said.

"Indeed, indeed, Minister Zou, your courage is outstanding, and you have accomplished this great feat. I shall reward you handsomely!" Yin Yin sat back in her chair; she needed to think for a moment.

"You are from Shanyin. As the saying goes, returning home in wealth without showing it is like walking in silk at night. Furthermore, your official rank will be promoted to the fourth grade, and you will be appointed as the Shanyin Strategist. What do you think?"

Cathay's official system was also divided into nine ranks. All Dragon Lords were first-rank, provincial governors were third-rank, prefectural governors were fifth-rank, and county magistrates were seventh-rank. Shanyin Prefecture was the provincial capital, and the Strategist was a fourth-rank official.

"This, to the Admiral, your subordinate still wishes to remain in the fleet; the trade route matters are not yet complete…" Zou Qilin was a little stunned. A promotion was certainly reasonable, but he hadn't expected to be transferred.

"You should consider your own safety! My younger brother, Grand Commandant Zhao Ming, supervises the Western Regions. There, evil warpstone causes havoc, leaving not a blade of grass. He relies heavily on the Long Tooth Road."

Yin Yin narrowed her eyes. As an immortal Dragon Lord, Zou Qilin's little thoughts couldn't escape her notice. This Grand Commandant merely saw that the trade route was newly established and would enter a period of rapid development, with plenty of benefits and political capital to gain, which was why he was unwilling to leave his post.

"Hiss…"

After hearing Yin Yin's hint, Zou Qilin gasped. Some rumors about Binlong Zhaoming were widely spread among the human upper class. The other Dragon Lords asserted that centuries spent in the warpstone desert had affected Zhao Ming's mind.

There were rumors that Zhao Ming liked to laugh and play with his subordinates, even drinking from the same cup. His brothers and sisters couldn't understand this, and rumors that he was corrupted by the great maw also spread.

Zhao Ming's fondness for alchemy, or what was called metal magic, greatly annoyed the Azure Dragon, who considered any magic outside of the Heavenly Court to be heresy. This Grand Commandant had more than once accused his youngest brother in the Heavenly Court. However, when discord arose at family gatherings, the Moon Empress always stepped forward to protect her beloved son.

But one thing was well known: the Long Tooth Road was very important to Zhao Ming, and Shang-Yang City prospered precisely because of it. If this newly opened sea route were both fast and safe, it would undoubtedly greatly harm Zhao Ming's interests, and the instigator, Zou Qilin, would likely have to face Bin Long's wrath directly.

"I humbly obey the Admiral's command! Thump, thump, thump!"

Zou Qilin quickly kowtowed in gratitude. Who could say what accidents might happen on the vast ocean? Compared to potential gains, his own life was more important.

"Return to Fuzhou City; someone will handle the handover with you!"

Yin Yin left the inn and transformed into a dragon to depart. There were still many official duties in Weidong Province to worry about. The end of the year was approaching, and it seemed some undercurrents were stirring beneath the surface calm.

"Buy more meat and fine wine from the Lizardmen. We've worked hard for so long; let the brothers have a good New Year!"

Gromril finally finished his official duties. He stretched and looked out the window at his territory. A large influx of immigrants had impacted public order, and at such a time, grand banquets played an undeniable role in alleviating discontent.

"Fellow clansmen, let us give thanks to the Ancestor Gods for their blessings! Without their guidance and help, we would not have the good life we enjoy today!"

Gromril, as usual, presided over the first sacrificial ceremony in the Southern World's Edge Mountains. To better alleviate the clansmen's negative emotions, he went to Spiderweb Mountain again, despite the arduous journey, to perform another ceremony.

In the early stages of the territory's development, resources were not abundant. The allocation of certain in-demand goods, such as alcohol, was limited for each Clansman. The inability to consume freely inevitably led to some complaints.

Gromril, of course, knew that the best way to solve this problem was to build breweries or even establish a Brewers' Guild. However, using these valuable resources for brewing when food self-sufficiency had not yet been achieved was not a wise move.

"A telegram from Everpeak, My King!"

On the first workday after the New Year, the telegraph operator knocked on Gromril's office door.

"Grudge Gathering?" the Lord of the Southlands muttered as he read. It was the year 6950 of the dwarf calendar, and the Grudge Gathering, held every fifty years, was due. "Why such an early notification? Shouldn't it be held at the end of the year?"

"Oh, right! That's because there were no telegraph facilities before!" Gromril patted his head. In the past, communication between various Mountain Strongholds relied solely on messengers. Furthermore, the Grudge Gathering, besides compiling grudges, served many other functions, all of which required time to prepare.

"Reply to the telegram. I will attend in person!"

Gromril stroked his beard. For various reasons, he should attend in person. Firstly, it was his first meeting since becoming King. Secondly, Karaz-A-Karak was his hometown, and it was time to return after being away for so long.

"I should set off early. Leaving at the last minute risks not only being late but also being ambushed by hostile forces!"

After dismissing Nori, Gromril murmured to himself. There had been precedents of high-ranking dwarves attending the meeting being ambushed. The main culprits were once Elves, but now the Skaven had taken over that role.

Having made up his mind, Gromril resumed his daily work. He needed to quickly establish a system to ensure the territory could operate normally while he was away at the meeting. If he were an ordinary dwarf Lord, he would simply appoint his blood relatives, but Gromril did not have the conditions to do so.

His clan suffered heavy losses in the Great Holy War; otherwise, it would not have been Thorgrim, a collateral relative, who took the throne. His only elder brother was the Lord of Mountain Lake Fortress, and his remaining relatives were too distant to be entrusted with the important responsibility of a city lord.

"Let's establish an Elder Council system. It seems like the political environment is quite suitable for it now. But the human issue needs discussion. How many seats should they be given?"

Gromril began tapping his desk again. He thought that a total of seven elder seats for each fortress would be appropriate—not too many, not too few, and an odd number, which would be convenient for voting.

"For now, give them one seat and send a representative to build a bridge for communication. The humans' main energy should be focused on training land. It's not too late to make adjustments once they've resolved their own issues."

The Lord's wishes were quickly carried out. The order to elect an Elder Council was disseminated among the three cities and one large construction site. This news attracted a large number of immigrants, and the already turbulent Southlands began to boil.

The response from the clansmen was very strong. They had traveled thousands of miles for more opportunities. Even Highland Fortress, where Gromril himself was located, saw overt and covert lobbying activities, not to mention the other fortresses.

The newly established Western Depot became active. The dwarves were not yet aware of the role of secret police. Many did not know that while they were forming factions and colluding in taverns, sharp eyes were watching them from the shadows.

"The methods of struggle are still relatively primitive!"

Looking at the several reports compiled by Andumgar, Gromril showed a relaxed expression. He was pleased that the clansmen participating in the competition had not resorted to despicable tactics such as slander or assassination. The competition was basically confined within the traditional public order and good customs of the dwarves.

"The list I've circled is final!" Gromril threw out a notice with twenty-eight names on it.

"Me? And me? I can't possibly take on the position of Elder!"

Andumgar was slightly stunned. He found his name among the seven people from Highland Fortress, but his title was not "Western Depot Supervisor" but rather the ostensible head of the special Ranger unit.

"Beards and craftsmanship are certainly important references, but the era of being guided solely by them is over!" Gromril looked at the young man opposite him. He had inserted several relatively young but capable individuals into the list; Erik of the Helheim clan was also among them.

The Transmigrator knew what he wanted. He had to centralize power in his own hands to accomplish the great things that lay ahead.

What was to be built in the Southlands was a "Municipal Council" to implement his policies, not the kind of policy-making body composed of great clans and guilds found in the Old World.

"A Cathayan seeks an audience!"

Half a year passed. Gromril was observing the effectiveness of the council's trusteeship while packing the things he would take back to Everpeak. Just then, a messenger knocked on his office door again.

"Please, I can return with the caravan!" Just as he thought it, it happened. Gromril was pondering what gifts to take back, and here the Cathayans came to him.

"Greetings, Great King Gromril!" Linghu Zhengde walked in with a beaming face, looking as if his future and fortune were very bright.

"Long time no see, what good..." The Dwarf King's greeting was cut short as he was drawn to the person behind the translator.

It was a gorgeously dressed Cathayan woman, appearing delicate and fragile, but that wasn't the key. Gromril felt a dark power emanating from her.

"Bang!"

With a gesture, his warhammer flew into his hand. Gromril weighed it. The instinctive familiarity brought a strong sense of security.

"Hmph!"

Gotrek was on duty today. Although he didn't immediately sense the enemy's presence, seeing his Lord's actions, he reacted instantly.

"Vampire, what brings you here? My Mountains do not welcome you blasphemous creations!" Gromril pointed his hammer at the Cathayan woman.

"Oh, Dwarf King, who possesses both wealth and wisdom, please hear Wan'er speak! I am Shangyi under the Azure Sea Mistress, sent here on the command of Zong Ji!" The woman gave a cupped-hand salute, extending her hands towards Gromril to indicate no hostility.

"Are there Vampires in Cathay too? Do the Dragon Gods tolerate you?"

"Vampires? It seems that is our appellation in the West. In Cathay, we are called Jade-Blooded, serving His Majesty and his descendants." This Vampire, who called herself Wan'er, had learned the common tongue during her long life, so communication was unimpeded.

"It seems not entirely unreasonable.

In the Warhammer World, there aren't many immortal, intelligent, and communicative beings outside of divine entities.

If I don't want my close retainers to constantly change, then accepting Vampires seems like a viable option."

Gromril comforted himself with a thought.

Trade with Cathay was extremely important to him right now, and he didn't want to make too much of an issue over the representative's identity.

"Alright, but I must be upfront with you.

If you don't enter my territory, fine, but if you do, I must arrange for some reliable subordinates to protect your safety." Gromril thought for a moment and decided to add a caveat.

He didn't know if it would be effective, but for the time being, it was all he could do.

"Lady, you must have heard something about that place.

I haven't yet cleansed that cursed land.

If something unpleasant were to emerge and harm you, Miss, it would undoubtedly have a negative impact on our cooperation."

Without a direct spar, Gromril couldn't judge the Vampire's strength, but a reasonable assumption was that a few ordinary warriors likely couldn't keep her in check.

At this point, the Dwarf King could only trust the Dragon Lord he hadn't yet met, hoping her people would be controllable.

"Tell me your intentions!" Gromril gestured for Zong Ji to be seated.

"Zong Ji is very satisfied with our agreement, but it was signed somewhat hastily at the time.

She believes some items could be slightly supplemented…"

The Jade-Blooded female official, despite her advanced age, had lived a full life, and Gromril found communicating with her very easy.

The two sides quickly optimized the existing agreement and deepened their cooperation based on it.

"This is a small token of our Zong Ji's regard, wishing your rule to be as stable as an overturned basin!" Finally, Zong Ji took out a set of tea ware and a box of tea leaves and presented them to Gromril.

"In our Grand Cathayan Empire, wise men and refined scholars all enjoy this, and the nobles in the human kingdoms of the West call it 'green gold'.

These are precious items from a tea garden exclusively belonging to Zong Ji, located on Mirror Wave Lake, and are offered as tribute to the Celestial Court every year."

As she introduced them, Zong Ji gently waved her delicate hand, brewing tea for Gromril.

As a transmigrator, he certainly knew how to prepare tea, but with a beautiful ghost serving him, why not enjoy it?

"Tsk, if this continues, will I start finding female rat-folk attractive?" Gromril thought to himself, looking at the classical beauty opposite him.

Now that he had territory, a certain thought in his mind suddenly began to stir.

A few days later, Gromril set off with his guard and the Cathay trade caravan.

Gotrek, carrying the Dragonbane Battle Standard, marched at the very front of the procession.

Gromril had adjusted his position to be his standard-bearer.

In dwarf society, a standard-bearer, like a gatekeeper, wasn't merely a literal title.

He primarily served as a vanguard officer, usually held by the lord's champion.

This important responsibility greatly excited Gotrek, and he used his massive, sandbag-sized fists to silence every voice that questioned his qualifications and strength.

However, for this young warrior, this wasn't enough.

He yearned to achieve glory on the battlefield, not by beating up his own kin to establish prestige.

As the saying goes, "a good horse neighs when it meets a good judge," and Gotrek was hoping for some short-sighted fellow to disturb the procession.

Gromril brought half a company of Iron Hammer Guard and half a company of Anvil Guard, along with several scribes, Rogov, and Gotrek.

The Cathay merchants and their escorts also numbered around a hundred, enough to make most beasts retreat.

"Excellent, looks good!"

Watching the busy farming scene in the fields, Gromril, sitting on a sheep's back, praised repeatedly.

This was all his food, his resources.

"What's that place over there? What are they going to do?"

At night, Gromril found an immigrant village to stay in.

The lord of the territory warmly received him.

After a rather hearty dinner, the dwarves suddenly noticed many villagers streaming out of the village.

"You don't know? Saint Marvin's poems often feature you and your warriors!" The knight showed a surprised expression.

Gromril then realized, the busy official duties had made his memory less sharp.

"Count Marvin, yes, the place where he drank the water of the Grail is nearby.

What, did he build a church here?"

"Yes, it's a tradition.

Building churches where The Lady of the Lake descends and proclaiming Her grace is precisely the duty of those living saints." The knight looked at Gromril with a hint of vigilance.

"Relax, my friend, I have an agreement with The Lady of the Lake and will respect your faith.

My oath is as solid as a rock." The Dwarf King smiled and waved his hand, "I'll go take a look.

It's been a long time since I've seen an old friend."

Following the crowd, Gromril arrived at the Grail Knight church in the woodland outside the village.

This church was more like a large shrine than a church; the two-room building merely housed statues and the Grail Knight's residence.

The dwarves laughed at the somewhat crooked and crude building.

It had been built by Count Marvin himself, but it was clear this noble had no talent for architecture, relying purely on his body, strengthened by holy water, to construct it.

Saint Marvin stood before the statue of The Lady of the Lake, loudly proclaiming Her doctrines.

This Grail Knight's body was filled with power, discipline, and the aura of faith, capable of cleansing evil to a certain extent.

"Greetings to you, His Majesty Gromril!"

Both parties had long since noticed each other but had tacitly avoided disturbing one another.

After the prayers ended and the villagers departed, Knight Marvin walked up to Gromril.

"I have a question I must ask.

Besides yourself, how many other Grail Knights and Saintesses have come to my territory?" Gromril asked somewhat eagerly.

"As far as I know, there are still two or three Saintesses, but I should be the only Grail Knight.

There are still far too many places in the mortal world that need to be purified by saints."

"Alright, I understand.

I wish your endeavors great success!"

Gromril walked away, frowning.

There were many such immigrant villages, but The Lady of the Lake couldn't oversee them all.

Or rather, from the perspective of that elven deity, farmers lacking power and value were not worth Her attention.

However, humans have spiritual needs, and if legitimate faiths cannot satisfy them, then certain cults of evil gods will naturally proliferate.

And if chaotic mutations occur, then even originally weak farmers can become terrifying killers.

"The Cult of Sigmar, it has to be them!

Those bald ones can be trusted.

This is a method with multiple benefits; I must push for this when I return."

Gromril made up his mind.

He didn't intend to sit by and wait for the immigrants he had painstakingly attracted to turn into Chaos rebels, but to bring in the Cult of Sigmar, the incompetent Dieter IV was a stumbling block that had to be removed.

"Why hasn't Marienburg revolted yet? It seems I must give them a push."

With matters on his mind, Gromril's steps became brisk. Along the way, he squinted, scanning every knight's village. But how could the cults of the Chaos Gods be spotted at a glance? Gromril's investigations, both overt and covert, failed to uncover any Nurgle sanctuaries or Khorne's Blood Cults.

"Good! The city walls are finally going up!"

Arriving at Demonbane Fortress, Gromril was pleased with the progress. Cement was much faster in bonding than the original lime mortar, and its strength was also more assured. The workers only needed to stack stones, and a tall, sturdy wall would rise from the ground.

"First, ensure the most basic defensive functions; internal planning can be discussed later."

Gromril inspected the bustling site, giving instructions. The Demonbane Fortress construction site had also established an Elder Council to advance the project, handle personnel arrangements, logistics, and other issues.

At Gromril's behest, in addition to the master architect responsible for the design, worker representatives and his own civil officials joined the Elder Council, which greatly stimulated the clansmen's enthusiasm for labor.

Gromril gazed into the distance at the ring of the living dead. He knew that a battle with Nagash's minions was inevitable. Building a fortress was a race against time; every day it was completed earlier meant an extra day of safety for his territory.

"Henrid, when I'm not in the Southlands, Balin will handle the internal affairs of Highland Fortress and Demonbane Fortress, but the external matters will be up to you!"

The Dwarf King clapped his tall subordinate on the back. This former Zhufbar gatekeeper was now the Commander of Security for the Lost Plateau. This position was considered the head of the military generals, and for a dwarf of humble origins, reaching this point was a great honor.

"Don't worry, Your Majesty! I didn't even flinch when facing a Forest Dragon's breath! And when Kugath, that pile of green dung, showed up, didn't I charge at him with my axe first? I don't care about Pointy-ears or skeletons—anyone who dares to come, I'll make them stay and fertilize the fields! In the name of the revered Mother Goddess Valaya..."

Henrid swung his great axe in the air. His confidence and fighting spirit were overflowing. But such a display made Gromril's heart tighten. As the saying goes, a proud army is bound to be defeated. Too many famous generals in his previous life had fallen due to this.

"Listen to me. The enemy is in the open, we are hidden. Their cunning and unpredictable power are unprecedented! You must never relax your vigilance. Necessary patrols cannot stop, the troops must be drilled, go easy on the drinking, and don't let it interfere with important matters!"

Watching Henrid nod vigorously, Gromril wasn't sure if he had truly taken it to heart. Before leaving, all he could do was allocate a helicopter to ensure aerial reconnaissance.

"We're still short on spellcasters. Revival points sitting idle don't earn interest. It would be better to use them to open the Ritual of Toolni and lure one or two more Rune Masters from the Old World!"

Spiderweb Mountain Fortress was no longer the battleground it once was, where spiders were repeatedly exterminated and Greenskins fought. It now showed vibrant life, with dwarves, humans, and Pygmies gathered together, engaged in extensive construction.

"Gulu Gulu ah!"

"Great Liberator, King of the Mountains!"

"Jili Gulu!"

Seeing Gromril's retinue, the Pygmies working outside the fortress cheered in their own language. Some of them had learned broken common tongue, indicating that integration and communication were progressing well.

Gromril suspected they identified him by his iconic golden lamb, as the necklace around his neck was not clearly visible from a distance.

Waving in greeting, the retinue advanced towards the fortress. Gromril increasingly felt that his original decision was correct. Although these indigenous people of the Southlands were somewhat lacking in quality, they made up for it in sheer numbers and their ability to endure hardship.

Compared to their previous hand-to-mouth existence, never knowing where their next meal would come from, their current life of assured food and clothing made them extremely grateful and supportive of Gromril. This greatly stimulated their enthusiasm for labor, transforming Spiderweb Mountain from a spiderweb-covered, lifeless wasteland two years ago into its current thriving state.

"Haha, they've erected a statue of me here too! By that logic, one will probably be built at Demonbane Fortress as well. With those master architects there, they'd better make it grand!"

The freshly unveiled statue in front of Spiderweb Mountain Fortress depicted him emerging from the Brood Queen's body—roaring with his head held high, his hands raised in a tearing motion.

Carving this subject at Spiderweb Mountain was perfectly fitting. The feat of killing a demigod was worth a special mention in the nearly seven-thousand-year history of the entire Dwarf race. Compared to the flamboyant Gromril, the Mother Goddess Valaya opposite him was half-hidden, appearing somewhat smaller.

"Praise be to His Majesty Gromril, True Lord of the Mountains!"

Dumbia, the Pygmy chieftain responsible for patrolling the fortress's perimeter, saw the retinue and enthusiastically came to greet them.

"Your Majesty, bestowing a place on the Elder Council upon me is truly, truly..." Dumbia stammered, but Gromril suspected there was a bit of acting involved. His experience in governing a region had sharpened his judgment.

"I am a generous and just person. I will not mistreat any subordinate loyal to their duty! Keep up the good work; I can give you more than you imagine."

Gromril thumped Dumbia's iron armor. This indigenous chieftain's foresight in arming himself first pleased him. Dumbia commanded over ten thousand people, an overwhelming advantage on the surface of Spiderweb Mountain, and giving him a seat on the Elder Council helped stabilize the people.

"By the way, I see many of your female clansmen seem to be pregnant. Is that right?" Gromril observed the Pygmy women who were processing food.

"Yes, it is. This may be the only blessing from the ancient sages. Otherwise, we wouldn't have been able to survive until now under such difficult external conditions." Dumbia's face beamed with a happy smile, but Gromril was already contemplating how to divide and manage these Pygmies.

"My King, we have already sent that band of savage Greenskins to meet their evil gods! The spoils are all in the storeroom; you can inspect them at any time." Chieftain Gorat rushed over from deep within the fortress.

"Well done, Elder Gorat! This place is good, isn't it? I believe it's certainly no worse than Karak-Dron!" Gromril smiled broadly. A crucial aspect of being a successful leader is not to disappoint one's followers.

"Of course! Thunder Mountain is much more barren than this. But Karak-Draz is different; that was one of the largest fortresses of the Golden Age. Our Baruk clan still sleeps with our axes under our pillows!"

There was a light in Chieftain Gorat's eyes, which was what pleased Gromril the most. This dwarf was middle-aged but still full of ambition and fighting spirit, a man who could be entrusted with important matters.

"That day will come. The Mountains will regain their former glory, and every hatred written in blood will be settled."

"Is Brockson still at the construction site? I'll go take a look." By evening, Gromril found that his engineer had not returned, so he rode his goat down the Mountains again.

"How is the design of this locomotive different from what I've seen before?"

Arriving at the foothills on the other side, Gromril saw the railway under construction. By the campfire, a large group of dwarves gathered to study it. The locomotive on display was not the common type with a chimney that whistled, but perhaps more like a rail-mounted cannon.

"Didn't I say to use that thing for power? That way, we can save some space for defensive firepower. How can something so important be undefended?"

Seeing Gromril arrive, Brockson was very excited. He was the most important follower by Gromril's side, having not missed a single battle since he led a team to escort a caravan.

"My most satisfying work, come inside and see!"

The Engineering Master pulled open the locomotive's hatch, gesturing for Gromril to enter first.

"This is good! An excellent combination of Rune technology and Engineering technology, this is a milestone product."

Gromril touched the simple and effective equipment, nodding repeatedly. Using Runes to control the output of warpstone energy was a brilliant idea. He found that the Runes inscribed were not very advanced, but rather a clever application of basic Runes.

"Yes, Kalad-Stormwalker is a genius; you remember him, right? Communication Runes are also his invention. I invited Kalad to the Southlands to assist me, but he said he had more ingenious ideas in his head to realize." Brockson leaned against the door, took off his glasses, and wiped them with his sleeve.

"I also look forward to him bringing more surprises, but your contributions, your father's, and Grand Master Silverfinger's are also not to be overlooked."

"This feels like a dream. Thanks to you, thanks to the Ancestor Goddess—well, I know, in fact, thanks to them." Gromril vaguely saw tears in Brockson's eyes.

"Yes, you weren't exactly presentable when I saw you in Zhufbar back then! Only five years have passed since then."

Gromril also felt a bit emotional; his memory went back to Zhufbar, where Brockson joined his team because he was exiled for developing warpstone technology, and now he had made a name for himself with the same thing.

"How fast can this thing go?" Gromril asked; he knew that the designed values could not be 100% achieved in practice.

"Forty to fifty kilometers an hour, perhaps. We still know too little about warpstone. The energy density of these things varies too much per unit volume, and going faster could be dangerous."

"That's enough. Crossing the territory will only take two days, and with stops in between, three days per trip is very suitable." Gromril stroked his beard. As long as this railway was built, the development of the Southern World's Edge Mountains would also enter the fast lane.

"But, your ideas don't stop there, do they?" Gromril suddenly turned around, revealing a strange smile. He had discovered an additional interface on the equipment.

"Hahaha, such good material is too good to be used just for power, isn't it?" Brockson was startled, then returned a similar smile.

"Keep it a secret, uh, or rather, how do you plan to keep it a secret?" Gromril's words trailed off as he thought of his clansmen's big mouths.

"Dumbia." Brockson uttered the name of the Pygmy chieftain.

"Alright, having them handle it is a solution. I'm most at ease with Spiderweb Mountain; you have ample strength here, and if necessary, you can also support Demonbane Fortress."

Gromril nodded. Whether warpstone weapons would be widely adopted depended on demand and the specifics of the designed items. But researching them without affecting the overall situation was fine.

Brockson fulfilled Gromril's request for a trial run with just the locomotive. He called in the driver, a Rune Smith from Zhufbar. The driver pulled the lever while activating the Runes that controlled the output.

"Click, clack!"

After a brief tremor, the warpstone's energy was channeled out. The locomotive's smooth and fast movement on the tracks delighted the Dwarf King.

"This thing doesn't have a name yet, does it? It doesn't burn coal, so calling it a 'fire train' isn't suitable. If you ask me, 'Revival Express' sounds great! Keep up the good work, I hope I can walk a shorter distance on my return trip!"

"The exploration team found traces of rats, but no further gains. It's hard to imagine those things infiltrating the Southlands. I've already dispatched more Ironbreakers to patrol the geomantic network!"

At Red Cloud Mountain, Johnson's report made Gromril frown. While this place was far from Skavenblight, the rats' strongholds were spread across the entire world, and who knew where they came from.

"Investigate, investigate thoroughly! I don't need to emphasize their threat!" Gromril paced his office. Although he had anticipated it, he was still somewhat anxious that his territory was truly under threat.

"The Nagash Wastes are one direction, and the Badlands are another. They are in the open, we are hidden. First, gather intelligence, don't rush to act, try to wait for me to return!" Gromril quickly assigned tasks. The fleet from Sea Gate would arrive soon, and he didn't have time to linger here.

"Why such a big display? Is it because I'm going back?"

The newly built Quata Port was on a completely different scale from the temporary landing spot before; in a game, it would be the difference between a tier one and a tier three port. But now, this wide dock was packed full with two Dreadnoughts.

"Hahaha, Your Majesty Gromril, respected Lord of the Southlands. Yes, but not entirely!"

Prince Panosen of Sea Gate descended from the ship's bridge. His silk clothing had become even more luxurious; clearly, he had gotten the first pick from the Cathay merchant fleet.

"There will be a period of safety at the beginning of a new trade route, but it won't last long. Those pirates smell gold like sharks smell blood, and this route is so busy. Our Sons of the Mountains, plus Cathay from the East, have really excited those rotten fish!" Panosen loudly complained while taking Gromril's luggage.

"The previous fleet was attacked?" Gromril's eyes narrowed again. The sea route was his lifeline now, and it could not afford any losses.

"Attack is too strong a word, at most harassment. They aren't sure of our strength, only using small groups of ships to probe, but we can't afford not to take it seriously, right? Nobody wants to swim back to Sea Gate."

"Your decision to leave early was correct. There are rumors that several Pirate Kings are planning a collaboration. This news isn't precise, but it's reasonable."

Panosen loudly reassured the accompanying civilians on the gangplank, but once inside the cabin, he whispered something into Gromril's ear.

"Pirate King? Who is it? Count Noctilus?" Gromril knew that the Vampire from the Manfred clan was entrenched in a deep-sea Great Vortex called the Shipwreck Graveyard, not too far from his route.

"Your foresight rivals that of the Gods!" Panosen praised. "And the pirates of Araby. This news also came from them. Ordinary people can't get through the Undead creatures under the Vampires."

"That old fellow must have a way to deal with it, then?" Gromril calmed down.

"Indeed, Sea Gate probably has an inside line with the pirates. My sudden departure this time, without a single foreign sailor, should have disrupted their plans." Panosen's expression was not relaxed. Both dwarves knew that this move could only solve the immediate crisis; the threat of the pirates would always exist.

"No time to lose, get the caravan on board quickly! We'll be lighter on the way back, so we can go faster!" Panosen called out. The trade team quickly surged across the gangplank. For merchants, time was part of their wealth, so they were more than happy to depart quickly!

"Whoosh!"

With a long blast of the whistle, the dwarf fleet quickly sailed out of the harbor. They went downstream, full speed ahead, rushing non-stop to the mouth of the Great River Mortis.

"Sure enough, someone is blocking us! But only two small boats!" Panosen looked through the telescope for a moment before handing it to Gromril.

"Any later, and it probably wouldn't have been this number!" Gromril praised after taking a look.

"Boom! Boom!"

The Dreadnought's main guns roared. The two pirate ships were clearly startled when they saw the dwarf fleet. They were still busy raising anchor to escape when a barrage of shells rained down on them.

"I think the skeletons will help us deal with these stragglers!" Panosen looked at the wreckage and survivors on the sea. He did not stop to pick up the pirates who had fallen overboard. The fleet continued forward, quickly passing through Brigand's Strait and entering the Black Gulf.

Fortunately, they caught the pirates off guard this time. The safety in the Black Gulf was vastly different from the open sea. Everyone on the ship breathed a sigh of relief, but at the same time, in Sea Gate, some discordant interludes were happening.

"My dear wife, how can I even bring this up!" Lord Panos was shouting at a plump middle-aged woman in the bedroom. The woman was expensively dressed, lived a life of luxury, and wore a large amount of jewelry rings on her fingers, looking like brass knuckles from a distance.

"You old fool with no foresight! In the afternoon, Kimberly cried to me for a long time again, and my good niece, Shia, was so angry she almost jumped into the sea!" The dwarf woman yelled while fanning herself with an exquisitely carved Cathay folding fan.

"The Ancestor Chosen will arrive tomorrow. If you dare not mention the marriage alliance, see if I don't beat you to death!" Lord Panos's wife was the elder sister of the current clan Chief of the second-largest clan in the area. Relying on her powerful maiden family, she showed no courtesy to her husband.

"This, this, when Gromril departed, the two of them were quite suitable, but who knew that in two years he would conquer the entire Southlands! Back then, I thought it would be good if he could just establish a foothold on Red Cloud Mountain, alas…" Lord Panos thumped his thigh.

"What does that matter! He still has to rely on our Sea Gate's ships, doesn't he?" The Lord's wife said nonchalantly.

"I say, you old woman, don't meddle if you don't understand! Go ask around, the Revitalizer chosen by the Ancestor Gods, even Brother Thorgrim's reputation can't compare to his. As for strength, heh, you might not know how powerful a Demigod is, but you surely know how formidable Kugath, the Plague Father, is, right? He always has a place in bedtime stories!"

Panos was furious at his wife's incorrect assessment of the situation. His face was red, and he shouted loudly. The Lord of Sea Gate was not young; beer and work had left their marks on his body.

"Even that Great Unclean One, favored by Nurgle, was banished under Stormhammer! Do you want to try with your stone head? Hmph, if any dwarf dares to hinder the Plague-Dispeller's cause, not to mention the judgment he will face in the Ancestor Halls, everything he possesses in the mortal world will be plundered by his own kind."

"You've said both the positive and negative! Why didn't you go for the marriage alliance when I suggested it then?" The Lord's wife, seeing she couldn't win the argument, used her female advantage.

"That was because I was worried about his expedition suffering setbacks…"

"A short-sighted fellow who made a mistake and isn't even thinking of making amends!"

"With Gromril's current status, only a princess from a Great Hold would be a suitable match. Your niece from your maiden family truly won't do!" Panos was still trying to reason.

"How do you know it won't work if you don't ask? Maybe Gromril just likes Shia's appearance? His first stop back is here with us. It would be foolish not to take advantage of this heaven-sent opportunity!"

"You, why don't you talk about yourself? You compare everything to Lagos's wife! She gave birth to three daughters. If you had only been a little more capable, wouldn't this have been solved already?" The Lord of Sea Gate was completely enraged.

"You still have the nerve to say that? Back then…"

The next morning, the fleet successfully arrived at Sea Gate. Upon reaching the harbor beneath the cliffs again, Gromril was surprised by the bustling trade here. His expedition to the Southlands had injected development impetus into the entire Dwarf Holds and had a considerable impact on the Old World.

"Your Majesty Panos, what's wrong with you?"

At the entrance of the lift, Lord Panos and all the high-ranking officials of Sea Gate were gathered to welcome Gromril. The young man noticed that the leading Lord had bloodshot eyes and seemed to be in low spirits.

"Hmm, household matters, no, just busy with official duties!"

"Take care of your health! May the Ancestor Goddess bless you!"

Gromril looked at this compatriot, who was older than his own father. In his opinion, this was undoubtedly due to worrying about his affairs. As he spoke, he gave Panos an invigorating effect. The cost of this ritual was now negligible for him.

"This, um, let's go for a meal. I've prepared the best wine and roasted meat. Ingredients from the Southlands aren't authentic!"

The feast at Sea Gate made Gromril and his subordinates very comfortable. Returning to their homeland in the Old World, these expeditionary warriors finally relaxed. Now with ample time, they rested for a few days before departing for Everpeak.

"Miss, you've taken so many notes. Are you going back to report to Grand Commandant Yin Yin?" Gromril drove his small sheep next to Wan'er's palanquin. This Jade-Blooded also disliked the sun.

"A glimpse through a tube reveals a spot. Aren't you also very curious about our Celestial Empire?" Wan'er's clear voice came from inside the palanquin. All along the way, Gromril would ask her about news from Cathay whenever he had nothing to do.

"Tomorrow, the academy has a half-day holiday. I'm going to the city gates to see; they say His Majesty Gromril, King of the Southern Lands, is returning! Just to catch a glimpse of him will be enough for me to brag about until Grungni's Festival!"

When the news of Gromril's departure from Sea Gate reached Karaz-A-Karak via runic telegraph, the entire Everpeak erupted in excitement. A young young'un burst through the saloon's swing doors, shouting at his father who was wiping glasses inside.

"Jonny-son, the Ancestors taught well that we Sons of the Mountains should be like stone. Why are you so boisterous? Where is your composure?" The saloon owner grumbled, hanging a polished glass upside down on the rack above his head.

"What did you say? A holiday? What day is tomorrow? The summer solstice just passed, and the Harvest Festival is still far off. Is it Thurni's Christmas? Even then, it's not your turn to celebrate, is it? Thanks to the Ancestor Chosen, more people have awakened runic power in the past two years, but unfortunately, alas, you haven't…"

The owner mumbled, the noisy working environment having damaged his hearing. However, he still keenly caught the word "holiday." For someone in his service industry, this meant a large influx of customers, so he knew the calendar like the back of his hand.

"Dad, it's His Majesty Gromril, who defeated the Plague Father and slayed a demigod in the Southlands, returning!" The young man raised his voice and shouted.

"Grudge Gathering? His Majesty Gromril is certainly early! But then again, he left from our Everpeak, and he will surely return again in the future." The saloon was a hub for dwarf news, and the owner had heard many related rumors.

"I heard there are two-legged lizards of all sizes in the Southlands; there are animated, talking skeletons, and also…"

It seemed the inherent nature of the Dwarf race was fully displayed in this young man. He gesticulated wildly, recounting his secondhand knowledge of the Southlands.

"Uncle Dannick wrote to say he's doing well in the Southlands and invited our family to come over. Dad, have you replied to him? He said everyone there doesn't know what to do at night, so it's exactly the time when a saloon is needed! With your excellent cooking skills…"

"Perhaps. It's good for you to go broaden your horizons tomorrow, but remember to come back early. Business will surely be good in the evening, and I'll still need your help." The saloon owner wrung out a rag and hung it up.

"I need to go talk to the clan elders. Thanks to the Ancestor Chosen, my wife's belly is stirring again. I wonder if it's a son or a daughter. Perhaps we really should venture south, otherwise, where will Jonny-son's bride price come from?"

Watching his son bounce out the door to play with friends, he sat behind the bar and poured himself a drink. In the days before, there seemed to be no good news. His Majesty Thorgrim crossed off grudges one by one, but new ones were always added, and always more.

The Dwarf race, originally slowly sliding into an abyss due to internal and external troubles, now had an invisible, intangible substance called "hope" spreading widely throughout the Mountain Kingdom.

For the long lives of the dwarves, seven years was not too long. The saloon owner could feel that after the Battle of Iron Gate, his customers' helpless complaints lessened, they were more generous, and even their tempers had improved.

"Creak!"

"Are you open, my dwarf friend?" Just as the owner was deep in thought, the sound of the door opening startled him. A human, holding a long staff and with a hood covering half his face, walked in.

"Uh, uh, of course, my friend, what would you like? My Firebrew and tender roasted rock ram leg are a perfect match!" The owner immediately went into work mode.

"Why not?" The human placed a few silver coins on the bar.

"Alright, coming right up! Oh, by the way, have you heard? The great Liberator, His Majesty Gromril, Lord of the Southlands, will be returning to Everpeak tomorrow!" Business came right after opening, and the owner was in high spirits.

"Of course, I came for him. He brings change and hope, and that's what we all like, isn't it?" The human leaned his staff against the wall and smiled, pursing his lips.

"Change and hope? Hmm, you've summarized it so well!" The owner subconsciously agreed, chewing on these two words and suddenly finding them very apt.

At noon the next day, Gromril and the caravan arrived at the foot of Everpeak. With a long blast of a horn, the gate, on which Valaya had personally carved runes, opened with a slight creak from its unlubricated hinges.

"Clang! Clang!"

Sunlight pierced into the shadows of the mountain's interior, followed by the sound of rhythmic footsteps. The throne of power appeared, with Thorgrim Grudgebearer, wearing the Dragon Crown, seated upon it.

Beside him were the Eternal Hammer Guard in blue uniforms, these battle-hardened warriors carrying their two-handed hammers on their shoulders. Their imposing presence made even Gromril's personal guards tremble slightly, and the other caravan members were utterly silent.

"Welcome back, King of the Southern World's Edge Mountains, Gromril-az Thorson of the Draz Kalad clan!"

Thorgrim's voice echoed through the valley. The High King did not use a string of epithets to address Gromril. Instead, he concisely stated his identity and lineage, and anyone could hear the High King's pride.

"Liberator!"

"Ancestor Chosen!"

"Stormhammer!"

One stone stirred a thousand waves. After Thorgrim started, various welcoming words poured out from the fortress. To dwarves of different statuses, Gromril shone with different lights, but the common thread among them was the word hero.

Driving the small rock ram forward, slightly behind the throne of power, and parallel with the two bearers behind it, Gromril passed through the gate. Along the way, he waved to the clansmen lined up to welcome him.

Looking at the crowd that filled the main road, wide enough for four wagons abreast, for a moment he suddenly wanted to bestow divine grace. But then he realized it was no longer necessary; in the eyes of his clansmen, he seemed to have already stepped halfway across the boundary between mortals and gods.

"How does it feel?" Thorgrim smiled, turning his head to look at his son.

"Very good, very gratifying, but, well, there's also pressure," Gromril spoke his true feelings. He knew that he was still at least halfway from his ultimate goal, and several tough bones were still ahead!

"Work hard. You carry the hopes of the clansmen."

"Yes, I know I cannot lose."

Gromril raised an eyebrow. God-making was the best way to increase cohesion in a short time. But it also meant that the one being made a god would have to tread on thin ice afterward, and the backlash from failure would be unbearable.

"I, we, will do our utmost to give you the greatest support." Thorgrim made his voice stubbornly reach Gromril's ears amidst the thunderous cheers.