A brave man may not live, but he cannot die

Chapter 302 Dark Clouds Loom Over the City (Part 1)

Deep within the sewers, where sewage should have been overflowing, the light of the arcane matrix lavishly illuminated every corner of this vast underground space. The magic crystals needed to maintain the illumination, if converted into gold pounds, would be enough to provide gas lamps for half of the houses in Seville at night.

Items salvaged from the royal palace in Hungen were scattered haphazardly on the ground like trash. In the damp environment of the underground sewers, historical paintings were covered only by a single red velvet cloth, which may have once been the cloak of one of Hungen's kings.

Gems, rings, necklaces. These treasures, once belonging to the royal women, are packed in wooden boxes. Most of them have been damaged, with gems and diamonds removed, leaving only scattered fragments. The young prince, who still carries the blood of the Yangen royal family, symbolizes the glory of that lost kingdom in the eyes of the old guard.

Arom inhales, tensing his muscles.

Two iron blocks, each weighing fifteen kilograms, were slowly pulled by an iron chain. This was a lever structure, and the one exerting the force was Arom, who was standing in front. As his shoulder blades tightened, his arms gradually pulled the iron blocks to the highest point.

"call--"

Exhale.

The iron block was put down and then lifted again, accompanied by a tense and continuous breathing, as the iron block was lifted and put down again and again.

The sweat on his forehead clearly showed how quickly this little prince, who looked like a fat pig just three months ago, had slimmed down. Although he still had some flabby fat on his belly, his arms had developed muscle definition, and he looked extremely healthy, no longer the emaciated figure he once was.

Only after performing the mechanical motion of lifting and lowering fifteen times in one go did Arom loosen the chains, pick up the wine glass beside him, and drink it down in large gulps.

It didn't contain alcohol, but rather boiled drinking water.

Ike calls this "cooled boiled water".

The cup was set down, and Quasimodo, who was standing nearby, quickly refilled it, saying, "Your Highness, please rest for a while."

"Two more sets," Arom said, catching his breath. "We'll rest after we finish."

Three months ago, his hands were chubby, but now they have prominent veins. The calluses on his palms show that he has been exercising like this for some time.

"The Godfather said that self-discipline is a prerequisite for success. I cannot let my guard down."

“Godfather, Godfather. Damn Godfather.” The old prime minister looked with heartache at the hideous scar on Arom’s thigh, left at the Golden Wind Casino.

"You mustn't let him brainwash you, Your Highness!" Quasimodo glanced around, making sure no arcanists belonging to the Golden Wind were nearby, before whispering his grievances: "That lowly black devil doesn't treat you like a human being at all! You've been stabbed, and instead of avenging you, he's tormenting you with your wound—"

“Nigger Quasimodo, don’t forget.” The little prince looked at the old man’s slightly dark skin under the lamplight, “Our ancestors were also black, but it was only through generations of intermarriage with white people from the southern continent that we look white.”

“Your Highness, you can’t side with Capone! That guy only cares about his Golden Wind! He’s a scoundrel with no king, no father, no country, a greedy serpent! He’s plotting how to devour us completely.”

Arom touched the wound on his leg, but there was no resentment in his expression.

“The Godfather is right. I didn’t think too much when I harassed the Branson family’s eldest daughter that day. If it weren’t for the Godfather’s sake, that stab would have killed me.”

"Quasimodo, I was wrong before. It was my temper that led to Benitez and Boy's deaths at the execution ground."

Arom paused, then slowly said, "They paid the price for my mistakes. If I hadn't encouraged Quen and his gang to rob the jewelry store, to demonstrate against Ike in such a childish and thoughtless way, those two loyal old retainers wouldn't have had to turn themselves in and suffer that inhumane memory extraction at the academy."

“This scar is a good thing for me. I have to become more mature in order to shoulder the future of Yeungon.”

Quasimodo watched the Little Prince walk toward the iron block again, and his gaze behind his reading glasses turned somewhat resentful.

The prince became more ambitious, began to quit drinking, used the time he would spend sleeping with women to read, and during the day he associated with all sorts of people, including Golden Wind. Whenever he had free time, he would come back here to pull iron.
Arom is the sole descendant of the Lingen royal family. If the restoration of the kingdom succeeds, he will become the King of Lingen. It should be a good thing that the monarch has become like this; if the country still exists, it would be a cause for celebration.

But for Quasimodo, for the banker who made his fortune from the inheritance of the Ginger family, and for the prime minister of the government-in-exile, an ambitious, self-disciplined, and reasonable successor was far less easy to control than a spoiled, arrogant, and conceited one.

But he had no choice; if he wanted to raise the banner of Ergen, the bloodline of Arom was indispensable.

After completing five sets, a total of seventy-five pulls, Arrom finally walked to the side to shower, panting heavily.

Although this massive underground workshop was isolated, making it difficult to transport supplies in, most of the necessities of life could be provided by arcane magic. For example, the water for bathing was generated directly from mana. The "professor" who built this workshop was on a completely different level from the arcane mages outside when it came to designing arcane matrices.

"This training is still too slow." Arom looked at his belly. Although he was being disciplined, it was unrealistic to expect to lose weight in just three months.

As he put on his magnificent silk robe, he said to Quasimodo, "Let me try the extraordinary potion. How about it?"

"No!!" Quasimodo exclaimed in alarm. "Your Highness, this is no joke! Once the extraordinary potion is ingested, life or death is uncertain, and there's no way to save you. What will we do if anything happens to you?"

"Ha, even the Godfather opposes this," Arom said casually. Although he craved superhuman power, he did not want to die.

He glanced at the newspaper on the table beside him. That page had been cut out, and looking at the beautiful person in the photo, Arom finally revealed some of his original boyish personality.

The Church of the Holy Spirit and Order, along with St. Mary's Girls' School, launched a refugee relief charity campaign in Seaville. The eldest daughter of the Branson family, undeterred by the mess, personally fed cake to disabled children, stating that she was influenced by her brother, Congressman Elon, and believed that all people are equal.

"My goodness, what a kind person, Miss Chaldie."

He stroked the newspaper clipping, looking exactly like an otaku on Earth stroking their two-dimensional waifu through a screen.

Quasimodo.

"You say."

"Once I successfully lose weight, do you think Miss Xia Dai'er will fall in love with me at first sight?"

"."

Quasimodo, as one of the city's most prominent bankers, had a general understanding of the Branson family's situation. He tactfully advised, "Your Highness, it's all fake news in the newspaper. The Branson family is the largest shareholder of this newspaper; this is a ghostwritten article for Congressman Elon's campaign."

"Nonsense! Don't I know?!" Arom roared, "Youthful spirit is a non-renewable resource! Even if the newspaper is fabricated, what loss have you suffered? Sidai Fist, Niandai Sword, Dai'er Palm—"

As he shouted, his expression turned sorrowful, and he pounded his fist on the table, the four-hundred-year-old jade-inlaid and gold-painted long table making a cracking sound.

"Damn it, damn that old man—no way, Miss Chaldale could never like that old man, there must be some misunderstanding, there must be some misunderstanding about them holding hands."

at this time.

A slightly interested voice came from the side: "Uncle? Holding hands?"

Arom and Quasimodo looked at the same time and saw a person shrouded in a cloak standing at the end of the pile of junk, casually picking up an item to admire it.

"Oh, this is the letter of credence between the Empire and Engen established diplomatic relations 800 years ago. Wow, the Emperor's signature! The Engen government-in-exile certainly has a lot of treasures."

His tone seemed very young.

But the voice seemed to have been manipulated by some force, sounding neither male nor female; the only way to tell that the person was not short was by their height. "Who?" Quasimodo asked warily.

"Don't be nervous, Professor's friend. Just checking on how far his experiment is going. I overheard some rather interesting conversation."

"The professor's friend?"

Quasimodo was no longer on guard, but his expression remained dissatisfied.

This underground workshop, hidden deep within the mountain, is a top-secret base of the exiled government. If the Academy were to discover the artificial circuit experiments being conducted there, everyone involved would face certain death. Apart from the Little Prince, a few senior officials of the exiled government, and a handful of people like Ike, all the arcanists involved in the research and development are forbidden from leaving once they enter. Among them are many who have spent years in the underground world. Even the second-in-command of the Golden Wind is not allowed to enter, which speaks volumes about the level of secrecy.

Besides, he had no idea what "friends" the brain floating in the culture tank had.

“I also really like Miss Chadelle of the Branson family, ‘the jewel of Aswell,’ you know. I’ve met her a few times; she’s as beautiful as her name suggests.” The cloaked man tilted his head. “But who is this uncle you’re talking about?”

Arom remained silent.

Although he was extremely annoyed at being stabbed in the back, he was the one who stabbed first, and since he was outmatched, he deserved to be beaten. After all, Shelby was also one of the Godfather's men, and having followed Golden Wind for a few months, the gang's sense of unity and loyalty had been instilled in the young man's heart; he wouldn't gossip.

But to everyone's surprise, Quasimodo said directly, "A gangster named Shelby, tsk, what a young lady, she's just an indecent commoner, hanging out with low-class gangsters."

The hooded man nodded slightly, as if he had memorized the name.

"I just saw you pulling those iron pieces. That's amazing! Who designed that machine? What's it called?"

The hooded man pointed to the iron frame with its lever structure.

Arome could answer that, being a young man after all, he had to show off after so much self-discipline: "That's called a gantry crane, designed by the Godfather. He called it anaerobic exercise, and it builds muscle quickly."

The hooded man was slightly taken aback.

"Ike Carpenter?"

"Yes."

The hooded man stared at the gantry and the kettle used for boiling water for a long time, seemingly lost in thought.

Quasimodo stared at the hooded man, silently tightening his grip on the scroll behind him and tearing a corner off it.

This is the alarm scroll of this workshop. Once triggered, the workshop owner will immediately know that there is a distress call.

However, nothing happened.

The hooded man seemed to know Quasimodo was calling for someone, and said leisurely, "Look, the professor is ignoring you. I told you I'm the professor's friend, don't be nervous."

"You don't even know anything about Ike Capone, yet the professor let you in?" Quasimodo asked coldly. "Who exactly are you?"

The man smiled and said, "You can call me 'Mr. Q'."

"Oh, there's another thing I wanted to do today."

The strange guy who called himself "Q" pulled a book out of his pocket.

Quasimodo's eyes narrowed the moment he saw the book's title.

How to treat premature ejaculation and infertility

"Some time ago, my subordinate discussed a business deal with you," Mr. Q said regretfully. "But unfortunately, he encountered some minor mishaps shortly afterward. Noticing that you've been frequently summoning him, I had to handle the aftermath on behalf of my subordinate."

Quasimodo asked in surprise, "You mean Jack is one of your men?"

He has passed away.

"So, you're an Abyss Transcendent?"

"Are you relieved now? It's not a spy from the academy or the cult."

Although he was even more uneasy than before, Quasimodo still scolded, "Damn it! Do you know how much we've lost because of this?! It's all your men's fault for being incompetent and untrustworthy! We had to send a loyal brother to turn himself in to deal with the aftermath of the jewelry store robbery. This should have been Jack's responsibility!"

"We signed a contract! I agreed to that deal! He broke the contract, broke the contract!" Quasimodo cursed, spittle flying everywhere.

"Honey, we've received your complaint, and we're truly sorry. How about we compensate you with a fivepence voucher?"

"?"

“Ha, just kidding.” Mr. Q chuckled. “I can make up for your losses. I can even make up for more.”

Quasimodo's tone was angry, but his eyes remained calm. Whether it was the fall of his homeland, the establishment of a bank using the legacy of the Count of Engen, or the discussion of who should surrender, this shrewd prime minister always used his emotions to conceal his true intentions.

What can you offer as compensation?

“I just finished talking to the professor. His artificial circuit experiment seems to be almost finished, which is really impressive,” Mr. Q paused. “I know you want to use artificial circuits to arm your soldiers and then retake Yangen’s territory, right?”

Although extremely wary, Quasimodo did not hide anything since he knew the "Professor" and was an Abyss transcendent who could not possibly have private dealings with the cult or the academy.

"So what?"

"This idea is good and feasible. However, even if the professor can change the material for manufacturing artificial circuits from flawless gems to something cheaper, you will still need sufficient capital to arm your army. What you are about to seize is the most fertile region of the Western Continent; beneath the scorched earth of war lies fertile black soil that can yield abundant harvests."

"Can you provide the funds?"

Quasimodo didn't believe the other party could come up with such a large sum of money.

Even if the Bank of the West were to divert all of the depositors' gold pounds, it still wouldn't be enough to support a war to restore the nation.

"Of course not, I come from an ordinary family, but I can find you a sugar daddy. A super sugar daddy."

Mr. Q took out a contract from his pocket.

"Professor, you and that prince over there signed a master-servant contract, didn't you? You used the sacred coffin to prolong his life, and in return, he provided you with the artificial circuit and ownership of the related knowledge if you were willing to sell the artificial circuit—"

"My offer is for an entire country."

(End of this chapter)