Chapter 474: No One Will Stop

Everyone is advancing; no one will pause.

To avoid waking Heddy, who was sound asleep, Gawain quietly rose from his desk. He gently draped a coat over her shoulders, then moved to the large floor-to-ceiling window of his study. Outside, the cityscape stretched beneath the sinking sun—Cecil was still bustling with life and energy.

This was a rapidly developing city, and with the end of the Integration War, the entire southern region was poised to accelerate its growth.

But as Cecil advanced, so did others. On this path of progress, no one would stop to wait for the laggards.

Typhon’s development had been unexpectedly swift, but Gawain was certain it wasn’t the only one moving forward. Even Ansu, seemingly archaic and backward, and the Church, apparently stubborn and conservative, must have their own development processes underway—especially in times of war, when such progress only speeds up.

Yet Gawain wasn’t overly worried about Ansu or the Church. He knew these forces were still shackled by their outdated systems. Their growth had limits. Without a revolutionary upheaval, their pace would always lag behind Cecil’s, posing no real threat.

The real concern was Typhon—Rosetta Augustus was a far more dangerous opponent than Gawain had anticipated.

He had started by reforming the system itself—and had already achieved initial success.

The Emperor had spent over a decade gradually reforming the imperial nobility, consolidating his authority, turning Typhon into a more efficient machine of execution. In recent years, his centralization had solidified, and the empire’s efficiency had soared. He quickly moved to the next phase: advancing education, freeing land from feudal shackles, and redistributing productive resources.

He had likely grasped the significance of “productive forces and relations of production,” or at least found a foothold, and was pushing toward deeper reforms. As long as his grip on the empire remained strong, these reforms would surely deepen in the coming years.

But such monumental achievements couldn’t be the work of Rosetta Augustus alone. To run such a vast, ancient empire, he must have a cadre of advisors and aides—perhaps a younger generation of noble elites, or enlightened, respected old aristocrats lending their support. In short, Typhon had not only a visionary emperor but also a group of ministers combining wisdom and political savvy.

At the same time, Typhon had excellent technical talent.

Gawain had Kamail, Pittman, Rebecca, and Jenny—outstanding experts under his command—but talent was abundant worldwide. It was impossible for all the geniuses to be concentrated in Cecil alone. Didn’t other countries have their own specialists?

Of course they did. The difference lay in whether they had the opportunity to shine.

Typhon’s chief alchemist had discovered the process of fuel acid decomposition, but was he the only chief alchemist? Did they lack rune experts, engineers, or magicians? What new breakthroughs might these people be working on?

Gawain was certain there were individuals with greater mathematical talent than Rebecca, stronger rune aptitude than Jenny, and deeper theological and natural philosophy gifts than Pittman. According to the distribution of extraordinary talents in this era, these people were surely gathered among the upper echelons of various nations, poised to make astonishing academic achievements at any moment. But depending on their country’s circumstances, the impact of their discoveries would vary.

In some places, a new magical technology might merely add a new pastime for nobles; elsewhere, an alchemical breakthrough could revolutionize national food production.

Typhon’s technical experts had clearly caught a fortunate era and a capable emperor.

Cecil’s sole advantage was that Gawain was more tolerant, more forward-looking, and clearer about the social development trends ahead, allowing him to leverage technological dividends more efficiently.

Carefully analyzing the intelligence from Daniel, Gawain speculated on Typhon’s pace and Rosetta Augustus’s next moves. At one point, he even entertained the chilling thought that “maybe Rosetta Augustus’s surname is also ‘Chuan’”—a sly joke referencing his own name—but after thorough analysis, he found no doubt about Typhon’s development trajectory.

First, Rosetta Augustus’s reforms were not overnight. He had spent decades securing the throne, consolidating power, gradually winning over progressive nobles, dividing opponents, and slowly transforming the Typhon nobility system—a normal, lengthy accumulation process.

Second, Typhon’s social reforms were far from smooth. Rosetta Augustus showed many signs of inexperience, some even bordering on mistakes:

He left many hidden dangers rooted in the old noble powers, forcing him to make compromises to maintain stability.

In promoting literacy, he wasted much effort due to poor incentive design and lacked a comprehensive education system. Even now, Typhon’s commoners were far less motivated to learn than Cecil’s.

Labor liberation lagged behind Cecil’s; peasants still worked short-term jobs in workshops after farming, with no true professional workforce or systematic vocational education and management.

Typhon’s “fuel acid workshops” remained based on old-style alchemical workshops, plagued by small scale, low efficiency, inconsistent standards, and chaotic management. Though Rosetta Augustus tried to build large-scale production facilities, these were merely enlarged workshops, with severe waste of manpower and resources.

Gawain took a deep breath. He knew this was the “normal” state of development.

Trial and error, setbacks, improvements, more trial and error, more setbacks, more improvements—countless people invested huge amounts of time and resources (sometimes sacrificing a generation’s youth) to tackle a field, only to find the path blocked. Typhon was doing exactly this, and that was normal.

Cecil’s rapid progress was largely because Gawain used his judgment and experience to avoid these dead ends in advance. Drawing on knowledge from his previous life and his observations as a satellite spirit, he planned the southern region’s development, saving enormous time, manpower, and resources.

At least for now, this was Cecil’s huge advantage over Typhon. But from another perspective, Typhon had its own strengths—ones Cecil couldn’t match for the time being:

Typhon was a vast country, with land, resources, and population several times that of the Duchy of Cecil.

This meant it could absorb resource losses during development, afford ample trial-and-error, and—most importantly—multiply the dividends of growth.

Even if its efficiency lagged behind Cecil’s, its sheer scale could soon overwhelm Ansu and Cecil.

So what should Cecil do? What could it do?

Gawain turned back to the stack of documents on his desk.

They were development plans for four new industrial zones in the southern region’s next phase.

At this stage, there was little Gawain could do beyond focusing on development. Growth was the hard truth. Only by burying his head in work and maximizing Cecil’s efficiency advantage could he maintain the current favorable situation.

And this development had to be steady and controllable.

His domain had already expanded too rapidly in the past year. He had no energy for further expansion—unless he wanted Cecil to revert to the old, loose, disorderly feudal lord system. Otherwise, all he could do was absorb and digest, focusing on technological research and infrastructure.

Beyond Ansu, he couldn’t directly harm Typhon. All he could do was dig pits.

The massive imperial machine controlled by Rosetta Augustus was already running. Stopping it was impossible. Better to push it forward—toward a seemingly brilliant but actually bottomless abyss.

Gawain had to do this. For Cecil’s survival, Typhon had to be neutralized.

But he also had to preserve Typhon’s development potential—because in the future, Typhon might be a force resisting the magical tide.

Gawain’s greatest relief was that the magical network intelligence he deliberately leaked had reached Rosetta Augustus and his advisors in time. Using this opportunity, he could infiltrate his influence into Typhon.

But was Daniel’s “magical network technology” enough to plant a fatal poison inside this giant?

Gawain thought not. Though significant, the magical network would be treated cautiously by Rosetta Augustus. He would likely restrict its use. Even if the “magical network poisoning” plan succeeded, the damage to Typhon would be limited—at most, a waste of manpower and resources. As a vast empire, Typhon could afford such losses.

Bolder, riskier ideas brewed in Gawain’s mind, darkening his expression.

At last, Heddy stirred from sleep. She jolted upright, seeing Gawain no longer lost in thought but standing nearby, a coat draped over her shoulders. She felt both nervous and embarrassed.

“Ancestor… I… I didn’t mean to fall asleep…”

Seeing her awake, Gawain’s expression softened immediately. He smiled faintly and took the coat she offered.

“It’s alright. A little rest is good—you’ve been overworked lately.”

“Actually, it’s been okay recently. After the production and construction plans were set, things eased up,” Heddy said, cheeks flushed, head lowered. “It’s just that the government office has been testing the newly installed magical network file transfer system, and they’ve run into many unexpected, somewhat tricky problems.”

“New technology always has issues at first,” Gawain nodded. “More importantly, do you have recent data on the industrial zones’ development, output, private investment willingness, the transformed nobles’ attitudes toward factories, and the operations of the Production Coordination Committee and Labor Security Department?”

“All of it. We’ve been compiling it regularly,” Heddy replied, curious. “Do you need it?”

“Yes, but not urgently. Just prepare a comprehensive report in the next few days.”

“Understood.”

Gawain nodded slightly, then murmured to himself, “Strength is the hard truth…”

…

Typhon, the imperial capital Oldernan, Obsidian Palace reception hall.

Duke Ferdinand sat opposite Emperor Rosetta Augustus, feeling a mix of emotions.

The war between Typhon and Ansu had finally been postponed, but anyone with eyes could see it had nothing to do with peace.

Almost immediately after the peace treaty, Ansu plunged into catastrophic civil war. Meanwhile, the Typhon Empire closed its borders and watched from the sidelines. Rosetta Augustus began consolidating domestic forces, meeting frequently with nobles, and pushing forward reforms of the professional army. Ferdinand Wendell observed all this closely.

He knew this brilliant emperor had never given up on the rich prize that was Ansu. The current ceasefire was merely to make that prize more tender, more delicious, and easier to swallow.

He rejoiced that Rosetta Augustus had overcome his hereditary madness, felt comforted that the empire had such a wise and powerful ruler, but also lamented the fading spirit of noble honor and regretted the new style of warfare driven by cunning and intrigue.

There was no doubt that the civil war in Ansu owed a part of its momentum to Emperor Rosetta himself.

But Ferdinand Wendell understood all too well that such dishonorable tactics were necessary—for the sake of the empire, the people of Ansu had to make sacrifices.

Not only that, they had to become the very fuel for the empire’s growth.

A middle-aged woman clad in a mage’s robe stood respectfully beside Emperor Typhon, pointing to the spread-out blueprints on the table as she explained, “This is what’s called the ‘Ley Network,’ but it’s the first generation—already outdated. The second generation is more streamlined, but the schematics we have are incomplete, and we haven’t found any detailed manufacturing methods.”

Grant Duke Ferdinand studied the blueprint before Emperor Typhon. Complex runes and magical conduits were drawn across the page. Though all the runes were basic, the entire array radiated a strange harmony. Ferdinand wasn’t a mage himself, but with his decent knowledge of magic, he could tell that the design was optimized to an exceptional degree.

This was the key to the rapid rise of Ansu’s ancient Cecil family—the “lost technology” brought back by that resurrected ancient hero.

From across the table came the voice of Rosetta Augustus: “Lord Ferdinand, I’ve heard that the second-generation Ley Network is made up of individual ‘units.’”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the duke replied. “Andersa captured some fleeing Ansu mercenaries who had seen the second-generation network. They say these units are hexagonal rune arrays, requiring extremely precise manufacturing and in vast quantities. It doesn’t seem like something forged one by one by blacksmiths and rune artisans…”

He sighed, frowning. “It’s a pity we don’t have the blueprints… or any physical samples.”

Another royal minister present in the audience chamber spoke up: “The southern border of Ansu is sealed off, tightly controlled by the Cecil family. Gathering intelligence won’t be easy, but it’s only temporary—the Cecils haven’t completely blocked the spread of the Ley Network. Rumor has it that some local nobles in the Holy Spirit Plains and parts of eastern Ansu have obtained privately circulated schematics. With enough patience and the right price, those Ansu nobles can be bought.”

Emperor Rosetta cast a cool glance at the minister. “Lord Gorin, even if we get the blueprints and samples, would you dare use them outright?”

Gorin hesitated, a thoughtful expression crossing his face.

“From what we know, before the war broke out in southern Ansu, the Cecil family actively spread the Ley Network on a large scale. And what happened? Those foolish Ansu nobles laid the network everywhere, so wherever the Cecil armies went, they had ample magical energy supply. That lesson was a harsh one.”

The war in southern Ansu ended swiftly, and the region was quickly sealed off afterward. But no wall is without cracks. Before the lockdown was complete, some exiled knights and mercenaries escaped, carrying with them all manner of rumors—some credible, some not. A portion of this intelligence found its way into Typhon’s hands.

These reports made Emperor Rosetta aware of the Cecil family’s rise—and wary of the “Ley Network” they wielded.

Yet… the Ley Network was still a valuable asset.

“We need Ley Network technology. More importantly, we need the ability to apply it—and that technology must be in our own hands,” Rosetta Augustus said, pressing his hand on the blueprint. His voice was grave. “Typhon, we need our own Ley Network.”

(End of chapter)