Chapter 826: The Gift of the Month of Renewal

The biting cold of winter had finally retreated from the northern lands. The Month of Renewal arrived with a sweeping nationwide rainfall, breathing new life into the earth.

Cecile operated like a relentless industrial machine—winter had never halted its gears, and the relatively warmer spring acted like lubricating oil, swiftly restoring vitality to this vast engine. Day by day, it surged with renewed power, rapidly returning to full capacity.

On the northern bank of the Baishui River, in Cecile’s northern development zone, a chill river breeze swept over the still-damp ground. Then, like rippling waves of faint light, layers of shimmering energy began to flow across the surface. The once-solid earth seemed to soften and melt, as if liquefying beneath the touch.

A large black engineering vehicle emitted a low hum. At its front, two parallel metal rails embedded with magic-conducting alloys glowed with flickering runes. Complex mechanical components adjusted the rune triggers back and forth, maintaining a steady magical effect that continuously bathed the ground ahead—softening it further.

Nearby, a surveyor holding a specially designed magitech terminal monitored the data. The terminal’s beam swept over the ground, now transforming from fossilized stone into mud by the “Fossil-to-Mud” technique—

“Conversion rate 0.8, reached target depth—set the pile!”

With a thunderous roar, the crane lifted a pre-prepared reinforced concrete pillar, its base covered in runes, and lowered it steadily into the fluidized earth. As the marker line disappeared beneath the surface, the surveyor signaled the crane operator. The engineer controlling the black vehicle casually activated the onboard radio and called out loudly:

“Unit One preparing polarity reversal, clear the area!”
“Area secure. Unit One authorized for polarity reversal.”

The mechanical linkage clicked and clattered. The rune array switched in unison. A low, humming vibration pulsed along the irradiated rails as the ground began to harden slowly…

A breeze swept past the elevated platform beside the construction site. Chief Architect Gordon lifted his gaze from the blueprints in his hands, watching the busy machinery and workers bustling between the machines. His voice carried a note of quiet satisfaction:

“This is the first pillar of spring this year… it went down smoothly. Hopefully, it’s a good omen.”

“‘Omen’ is a meaningless word,” a metallic voice with a slight metallic tremor sounded from the silver-white floating orb beside Gordon. “Isolated events without logical connection cannot predict the future. I prefer precise mathematics and machines—at least they have fewer variables.”

“I like precise numbers and machines too,” Gordon smiled at the master craftsman beside him. “Numbers make blueprints more useful, and machines speed up construction. Mr. Nicholas, I’m curious—what exactly is this facility for? It requires a master craftsman like you to personally tune the equipment… Of course, if it’s classified, I won’t pry.”

“The name can tell you—this is the Empire’s future Computing Center. Though its public name hasn’t been finalized yet,” the Empire’s master craftsman Nicholas Egglet said proudly, his round body bobbing slightly. “It’s full of cutting-edge technology. In theory, my mechanical scholars could handle it, but His Majesty insisted I personally assemble the core area for reliability.”

“Computing Center?” Gordon frowned. “For mathematical research? That’s an odd name…”

“You’ll understand its purpose soon enough, Mr. Gordon.” Nicholas’s tone rose as his silver orb slowly ascended, hovering high above. His ever-cheerful face rotated gently, reflecting the entire development zone—near and far.

Vast construction sites stretched out, machines roared in groups, workers hurried between zones. The people of Cecile were embracing the spring of rebirth—

…

A low hum of machinery echoed from a room high in the hub tower. Outside the window, a high-powered magic crystal antenna slowly rotated, its mechanical arm sweeping precisely toward Cecile city.

The crystal glass blocked the lingering chill of the wind. Inside, the heating system ran at minimal power. Tower keeper Green wore a light linen shirt, stirring the steaming coffee in his cup as he approached the window.

A flock of birds flew past the distant tower, their calls rising and falling in the clear sky. They deliberately avoided the powerful magic network hub, leaving no “annoying deposits” on the delicate equipment.

Green nodded with satisfaction. The new device installed last year had proven effective. The clever minds at the research institute and design bureau had devised a simple “animal deterrent” that kept birds far from the tower—far more energy-efficient than shields, and without the extra weight of physical barriers.

No more cleaning bird droppings from antenna pivots, no more picking up poor birds stunned or killed by crashing into the crystal arrays.

Green stood by the observation window, took a small sip of his still-hot coffee, then turned back to his workstation to perform the routine system checks.

The printer connected to the magic network terminal had already spit out a long sheet of paper containing specially flagged information—only critical alerts, key fault reports, and orders from the central hub were automatically printed to avoid oversight.

As the Lu’an hub’s keeper, Green enjoyed some small privileges. He could access clear magic network broadcasts, the latest Cecile Weekly, and two other leisure newspapers—all printed through the same terminal-connected device.

For a reader, newspapers were a better pastime than broadcasts.

None of this had existed from the start; it had been gradually improved since the tower’s establishment, and would surely continue to evolve.

Green sat at his desk, pulled the paper cutter, and carefully separated the sheets. He neatly folded several newspapers and set them aside—shared property among keepers, and he didn’t want them damaged before the next shift.

Suppressing the urge to read immediately, Green first reviewed the node reports and confirmed the equipment’s real-time status. Only then did he pick up the newspapers and casually flip through them.

“Winter’s over, the Empire’s provinces enter spring production—Cecile embraces the new season.”

“They’re all working now… I wonder if the city factories are hiring temporary workers this spring… Storm is old enough. I should write home and tell him to apprentice at a factory—maybe he can learn some skills… Supporting five kids through school is tough, even with tuition waivers. That’s five mouths to feed… We need another income to help.”

Thoughts swirling, Green reached for a blank sheet and a pen, beginning a letter to his wife back in the city.

A former scribe, he still preferred the feel of pen on paper—it felt more tangible than the magic network’s “alphabet palette.”

But when he came to writing the children’s names, he hesitated.

Storm was the eldest, old enough to work in a factory. He’d always been interested in math, now fascinated by runes. The night school literacy teacher said he had a talent for becoming a runesmith—but that was beyond general schooling, requiring specialized academy training.

The other children were still young, at prime learning ages. They all should go to school. But… Storm truly loved math and runes…

Unconsciously, Green’s pen slowed to a stop.

He’d been the tower keeper for two years, watching Lu’an district change bit by bit, receiving news from all corners. He’d forwarded the latest government mobilization orders and current affairs.

On the first day of the Month of Harvest, Ansu 738—the Empire’s founding year—the live coronation of Emperor Gawain had been broadcast from this very hub to the entire southern region. He and his colleagues had witnessed the nation’s rebirth from the ashes.

So he saw more, understood more—he knew how important education was in this era, and that true modern knowledge could only be gained in schools. He couldn’t teach his children advanced math or mechanical principles like his father had taught him to read.

He also knew Emperor Gawain Cecile was dedicated to freeing every commoner from ignorance, ensuring all children had schooling opportunities, even establishing many free schools so every southern family could send at least one child to study and live free of charge.

But he had five children.

Even with his relatively comfortable salary, supporting five kids was tight—especially if he wanted them all to attend school.

At some point, the pen’s tip had rested on the paper, ink spreading into a dark blot. When Green noticed, some letters were already smudged beyond recognition.

He sighed, about to rewrite, when the printer suddenly whirred and spat out a fresh sheet.

Green set down his pen, pulled the paper cutter, and took the new printout. He read it carefully.

At the top was the emblem of the Sword and Plow, followed by the words “Lu’an City.” He realized it was a notice from the municipal government—and then his eyes caught his own name:

To Lu’an Hub Tower Keeper Green:

After evaluation by the Municipal Government Office, your “Hub Tower Improvement Proposal” submitted in the Month of Fire, Ansu 737, has been deemed highly valuable and has contributed significantly to subsequent improvements. In accordance with the “Special Contribution and Reward Regulations for Government Employees,” a reward of 125 gold pounds will be issued with this month’s salary. This is to notify you accordingly.

Note: Due to previous adjustments in the statistics department and restructuring of the Imperial Government Office system, this reward was delayed until now. We appreciate your understanding.

Wishing you continued success.

—Lu’an City Government Office, Cecile Year 2, Month of Renewal, Day 2

Green read the notice again, then once more.

One hundred twenty-five gold pounds—that was a substantial sum.

A puzzled expression crossed his face, then realization dawned, followed by a slow, delighted smile. He stood up, pacing the room with joy.

He grabbed the coffee on the table—it had gone cold—and drank it down in one gulp. Then he picked up the notice again, reread it, and finally sat back down in his chair.

After picking up a fresh sheet of stationery, he took a deep breath and began to write smoothly:

“Dear Sarah,

I’ve received a bonus.

I want to send the children to school—they’re all old enough now…

Please tell Storm the good news. He can start learning runes or real magical engineering. He might even attend the Imperial Academy, if he can pass their entrance exam. I’ve heard it’s the best place for that kind of training…”

After signing his name, Green carefully reviewed every letter. Satisfied, he nodded and placed the letter on the metal platform beside the magical communication terminal.

No need for a courier or delivery service—ordinary letters could be sent directly through the “Magic Network.” Soon, a copy of this letter would appear at the public Magic Network center in Luan City, and if all went well, it would reach his wife within a few hours.

Having done all this, Green finally exhaled deeply and stood by the window.

In the distance, machines were making their way toward the fields. After the spring rain, the earth seemed ready to burst into green.

(End of chapter)