After being forced to step down, the once-annoying nun eloped with me.

"That's why Finn so desperately wanted reform. A perfect wooden sword can't compete with a flawed steel sword, let alone an ironclad warship."

"Speaking of which, what is an ironclad warship? You looked really pale after you went out with that Qinna yesterday. Can you tell me about it?"

"that is..."

Yang Hao used concise words to explain to Theresa the important matter that Qinna had told him the previous night.

The rumble of cannons on the sea, the strange magic illuminating the dark surface, and the sight of the black dragon being shot down, witnessed by the elves.

Yang Hao was filled with worry, because he understood that his unease from years ago had now become a reality: the development speed of Isugard across the sea was simply too fast. They had already formed a fleet of ironclad warships and were now engaged in a massive naval battle with other nations that also possessed ironclad warships.

This was not good news for Yang Hao. It wasn't that he still harbored illusions about the Roman Empire, but if the Roman Empire were turned into a colony by Isgard, then the ancient and perfect "new home" of the Elf Kingdom would certainly not escape the fate of being invaded.

The elves' bows and arrows are very powerful.

But compared to naval guns, it's just a weakling.

Therefore, Yang Hao was filled with worry, once again falling into the same anxiety he had experienced before. But fortunately, this time he had a lover by his side who was willing to share the pressure. Although the elves were stubborn, they were also open to reform. Most importantly, there was now a huge buffer zone between them and Isgard—the Roman Empire.

"This is really good news!" Yang Hao muttered to himself, and then told Theresa an even bigger piece of news:

"That black dragon... if I remember correctly, it should be Nia, the head of the Isgard Research Institute, with whom I signed a secret pact back then—we signed a secret pact, and I did my best to make the Roman Empire appear more powerful so as to lure Isgard into choosing to become an ally of the Roman Empire rather than treating it as an enemy..."

Now that I'm gone, the Roman Empire is engulfed in war and its people are suffering. Isgard will soon receive this news. And if the Black Dragon is lucky enough to survive and arrives at Drake Harbor only to find that he can't bring me to meet him... this secret pact will probably be null and void.”

"A secret pact? Hmm... Can you just tell me the result directly? I don't really understand these things."

"Simply put, if I were still the regent of Roman, I could do everything in my power to maintain the secret agreement. Barring any unforeseen circumstances, the best outcome would be an alliance with Isgard, and the worst outcome would be a delay in Isgard's invasion. At least I could hold out for five years before they saw through Roman's current situation, until industrialization was complete and Roman also had the ability to produce muskets and ironclad warships—but now..."

He opened his arms, pulled the nun into his embrace, and gently moved her aside to allow a group of pedestrians to pass. He muttered to himself:

"It's over. The best outcome for the Roman Empire is that the coastal military district's Dreschka can keep people off the coast. The worst outcome is that, apart from the parishes, everything else will probably become colonies of Isgard. They're all finished, but now we have time."

"Then...but why are parishes excluded?"

“Geographically, it is located in the far north, with countless noble landowners, royal families, and military districts serving as buffers. In terms of military strength, although the parish does not have any famous generals, the morale of those... drug-addicted believers is in some ways higher than that of regular troops—not to mention the advantage of priests fighting on home ground.”

"That's true..."

The young nun nodded thoughtfully, and after stuffing the snack into her mouth, she gained a deeper understanding of the current situation on the continent of Elusia.

One is a barbarian destined to die, another is an elven kingdom that can use the barbarian's corpse as a buffer, and then there's the alien race in the north who are unaware of the current situation... This is rather troublesome.

So, is the most urgent task to enable elves to also possess the technology from Ysgard?

Theresa asked with her eyes, while Yang Hao led her to an elven bow-making shop.

"Welcome—Holy crap?! Your Majesty?!"

"...Arthur??"

Unexpectedly, I ran into an acquaintance as soon as I came in.

Yang Hao and the blond man in the wheelchair behind the counter looked at each other.

After a moment, the man put down the glass he was wiping, and with both hands, he wheeled himself to Yang Hao and rushed over to him, excitedly reaching out to hug Yang Hao's waist.

"Holy crap, Your Majesty, you're still alive?! I thought you were dead at the hands of those bastards, but you're still alive?!"

"...I'm perfectly fine. More importantly, what's wrong with your leg?"

Yang Hao remained relatively calm. On one hand, Arthur was one of his most trusted subordinates at the time, and on the other hand, there was the constant tranquility spell that Theresa cast. In his composure, he simply patted his former subordinate on the back. Then he took a step back, looking at Arthur's leg with some surprise.

Arthur's left leg was clearly broken, but in the Elf Kingdom, treating such a fracture is a piece of cake, isn't it?

Was he being bullied in the Elf Kingdom?

Yang Hao's confusion made Arthur scratch his head rather awkwardly:

"I got beaten by my wife. At the time, I accidentally... well, what can you do when dry grass meets a raging fire? Then I realized that my wife had been watching us for more than two hours right in front of the house, and then... well, that's how it happened."

He pointed to his broken leg, looking quite embarrassed.

"My wife broke my leg, saying I couldn't get treatment on my own until she got over her anger. I felt guilty, so I always keep a wheelchair handy..."

"You actually keep a wheelchair readily available instead of genuinely repenting?!"

The young nuns exchanged bewildered glances, clearly astonished by Mr. Arthur's lifestyle.

...........

Arthur, whose surname is unknown, is a capable and competent man whom Yang Hao recruited from the bottom.

He had his own expertise and insights into diplomacy and craftsmanship, but what matched his abilities was a mindset that was even more dissolute than the most promiscuous woman.

Although this man had three principles: "I won't touch married women, I won't touch women with boyfriends, and I won't touch underage women or women who lack self-control," his promiscuity was notorious even in the Roman Empire.

The Night Emperor, who spent three days having his way with all 50 courtesans in the brothel, was also the womanizer who got eight noblewomen pregnant before being promoted by Yang Hao, including several married women.

But he was also the first diplomat in the history of the Roman Empire to earn the respect of the elves, and he was also the capable person who perfected the details of the [Steam Factory] that Yang Hao mentioned.

Arthur was that kind of man—his abilities were as high as the heavens, and so were his debauchery.

But this kind of man not only has an elven wife in the elven kingdom, but he even dares to cheat on her in front of her?!

What an incredible spirit of fearlessness!

Yang Hao and Theresa looked at Arthur, who was making tea for them, with extremely strange expressions. Arthur, on the other hand, looked at Yang Hao thoughtfully.

"So, my virgin Majesty has finally graduated from virginity? I told you long ago that the Night Witch, who only wanted to study magic, didn't understand anything about men and women. Now that Your Majesty has lost your virginity, I can openly proclaim that I once slept with Your Majesty, and that I scoured women with Your Majesty..."

"Fuck you! I haven't done anything with my man! Yang Hao, what kind of people are your men like this?!"

"I'm used to this kind of slander. The day he suddenly seems normal, I'll be the first to get the best doctors to examine his brain..."

Yang Hao sighed heavily, took the little nun's hand to calm this volatile woman who was itching to smash the holy book over Arthur's head, and then turned back to continue:

"So, how did you survive? Elves are so conservative and stubborn... I find it hard to imagine that you could have survived instead of just losing a leg."

"You mean this?" Arthur blinked, placed two cups of green tea on the table and handed them to the two, then gave a shy smile. "It's related to the social customs and traditions of the elves. After all, Your Majesty, you should know this after you came to the elven kingdom, right? Elves value promises very much."

"So I just don't understand how you survive."

"It's related to the promise I made when I got married. When I got married, I told my wife who proposed to me that I'm just that kind of womanizer, and I feel uncomfortable if I don't sleep with a woman every day, so I definitely can't be a virgin. My wife accepted my flaw under these circumstances, but she also said that she would break my legs every time she found out."

"Excuse me, how many times have you been beaten up?"

"Probably more than fifty times this year."

"It's only May 4th now?!"

Even Yang Hao, who should have been the calmest, almost wet himself.

Arthur has been caught cheating on his wife more than 50 times this year, and it's only the beginning of May...

If we calculate based on 30 days in a month, that's over 50 times in 124 days...

Should I admire the elf's composure, or simply say you're incredibly lucky?

Yang Hao's gaze towards Arthur was filled with a strange look, while Arthur simply smiled and proudly stated: They are still a loving family, at least in the eyes of the elves.

“After all, elves are a race that keeps their promises,” Arthur reminded him again. “I haven’t broken my promise, and neither has she, so in the elves’ worldview, we are a happy and harmonious family—well, I have to admit, I’ll probably spend the rest of my life in a wheelchair… More importantly, Your Majesty, why are you here?”

“You know what happened to me in the Roman Empire. Now I have taken over as regent of Gaparia and am ready to assist Finn in carrying out reforms.”

"Oh, so that's what it is—that's alright, the elves are very supportive of Fen's reforms, so Your Majesty shouldn't face any obstacles in your work..."

A good subordinate doesn't pry into their superior's sore spots, and Arthur is clearly very good at it, except for his womanizing.

"Actually, I'm also quite troubled by the elves' pursuit of 'perfection'—you know, my family are bow makers, I'm in charge of selling the goods, and my wife makes the bows. But... the elves treat weapons as 'works of art' rather than 'simple and crude products,' which means that it takes them a hundred years to make a single bow."

"A hundred years?"

“Just look at the bow on the wall. Look at the reliefs, the gold leaf eulogies and the cylindrical paintings, and all the decorations—the elves like to make everything perfect, but in my opinion, it’s unnecessary.”

Weapons should be as simple as possible, stripping away all the useless parts, leaving only the useful ones—but the elven artworks are clearly not weapons, at least not the cheap and practical products we associate with equipping legions. Being overly perfectionistic isn't always a good thing, at least not when the clouds of war are gathering.

It may seem priceless, but in modern times, its only value is as an object of appreciation.

The blond, rutting beast, who had a deep understanding of industry, sighed heavily at this point: "These are the elves' weapons, perfect, but outdated. What we need are arrows and longbows that can be mass-produced 500 a day, not 100 exquisite arrows and a longbow every 100 years—this is no longer an era where a perfect individual soldier can survive a war."

"This is also why Finland is so eager to implement reforms."

"But the advantage they have over us is that the Elf Kingdom doesn't have any troublemakers, while the Roman Empire not only does, but also a bunch of... sigh. Never mind. Let's not talk about that—so Your Majesty, would you like me to take you out for a stroll? If you want to understand places that need to be changed, you can't do it without acquaintances."

"And what about your shop?"

"Just leave the door open. Anyone who wants to buy something will just put the money in there."

After saying that, Arthur drank the green tea in one gulp, then boldly placed a sign on the counter that read "Owner Not Here," before pushing his wheelchair and taking Yang Hao and the other person away from his home.

Chapter Sixteen: The Flames of Elf Transformation and the Treants

Arthur had lived in Fingal for many years and had many connections among the elves, especially with women.

Almost every street corner she passed was greeted shyly by a young, beautiful (actually, her age was unknown) female elf, and Arthur would proudly respond in his own unique way, amidst the embarrassed expressions that Yang Hao and Theresa both showed:

"Good morning, ma'am. Don't come over these next few days. My wife's face turned green when she saw you, and if she keeps hitting me, I'm afraid my third leg will break too."

"Good morning, Grandma! A few months ago, I was so grateful you stopped my wife from getting involved, otherwise I would have..."

"Hello--"

As the twentieth female elf passed by, either secretly or openly pinching Arthur's chest, Theresa couldn't help but mutter to herself:

"Looks like I'll have to keep a close eye on my puppy..."

"Theresa?"

"nothing."

She clung to Yang Hao's arm, her eyes filled with a woman's wariness as she looked at all the female elves. And it was at that moment that Arthur led them to the curtain wall of Fingel.

After entering the interior of the curtain wall through an open door, the man, his face covered in lipstick marks, took out a handkerchief to wipe the marks off his face and pointed to the firing ports on the curtain wall, saying:

"From here you can see directly the farm below—if you want to understand the society of the elves, I suggest Your Majesty spend ten minutes here, and perhaps you will have the same thoughts as me."

Yang Hao nodded and then stepped forward. Looking down through the firing port, he could clearly see that a martial arts tournament seemed to be taking place on the suburban farm below Fingel.

Arthur explained that this was the elves' "daily entertainment"—a group of elf children under the age of thirty would shoot at moving targets a hundred meters away with longbows, and the winner would be determined by the number of times they hit the target, the number of hits, and the score. It was a game of entertainment for the elf children.

Arthur paused for a moment, then said: "Those longbows have a very high draw weight. If an ordinary human archer were to play this game, his arm would be completely ruined within an hour, after drawing the bow no more than five times."

The elf children would often shoot out 40 arrows in a single hour, and still feel unsatisfied.

Upon hearing this, Yang Hao's eyes widened suddenly, and he pointed at the children who could hit a target from a hundred paces away, saying: You're telling me that this shooting training, which is even better than the most elite archers of the Roman Empire's Imperial Guard, is just a game between children?