“My Lord, I believe that your recent victory over the kings of your regions does not guarantee you a triumph over even a single town in ours. Perhaps you are unaware, but the town of Montaj is not merely a town; it is the ruling seat over all the other 20 towns in our region. It is inconceivable and unrealistic to claim that, with all the battalions of your region, you could achieve victory over any of the towns in ours. While I suspect His Highness was jesting when he suggested otherwise, I must remind him that he can't conquer us.”
Armad’s curiosity was piqued, and he asked with a hint of a smile, “How many deva cultivators do you have?” His demeanor and the subtle smile on his face puzzled Liam, leaving him unsure of Armad’s intentions.
After a moment of contemplation, Liam decided to answer Armad, seeing this as an opportunity to instill fear and assert the strength of his region. Initially hesitant, he soon realized this was his chance to intimidate Armad.
“In the town of Montage alone, we have 17 deva cultivators. In the remaining 20 towns of our region, each boasts at least five devas.”
Liam knew that across Armad’s region, only the town of Fida had three devas. However, during Armad’s battle against the other regional kings, all the devas from those regions perished. Naturally, they were aware that Armad’s battalion from the capital included some devas. Nonetheless, in their region, the town of Montage alone had 17 devas, not counting the wild devas who served them and stood ready to fight when needed.
Armad absorbed this information, falling silent in contemplation. The number of devas Liam mentioned far exceeded his expectations. Armad now estimated that if each town had five devas as Liam claimed, the total would exceed 100. Yet, despite this revelation, Armad remained undeterred. He had not come this far to be dissuaded by mere numbers.
He was acutely aware that deva were individuals capable of altering the course of a battle. Going to war against his neighbors at this moment would be far from ideal. He made up his mind to increase the number of his deva before any confrontation with those neighbors could occur.
“Let’s set aside the issue of taxes for now. I stand firm in my stance: I will not pay a tax amounting to 98% of my income. However, let’s discuss business opportunities instead. I propose that you be the first to whom I offer my goods, whether they be metals, food, or other commodities. We will make sure to advertise anything we wish to sell to you first before approaching other regions. You know that whatever we advertise—be it metals, food, or medicines—we will find buyers from other parts of the world. If we agree that you will be our primary market, it will be a tremendous opportunity for you. I believe such an arrangement will yield mutual benefits for both of us as neighbors.”
Armad spoke gently and with a tone of peace. He had no desire for another battle, especially against these neighbors. According to his plan, he wanted to devote the next six months to strengthening his town of Tiriba and the other towns he had conquered. This would ensure that he was well-prepared for the important guests he was expecting in six months. His peaceful demeanor was a reflection of his strategic foresight.
However, before he could finish his proposal, Liam raised his hand, halting him. “Stop, stop, stop, my Lord. If you genuinely want these negotiations to be fruitful, we can discuss reducing the tax from 98% to 95%. But now, you’ve sidetracked into business discussions. We came here to collect taxes, and taxes are mandatory for any town that wishes to live in peace. Taxes are what enable a country to develop and prosper. Do you expect us to take the wealth of the people of Montaj and give it to you in exchange for metals, agricultural products, or medicine? This is out of the question. Why can’t His Highness view this matter from our perspective? You will need allies. If our intelligence is accurate, your brother is rallying people to support him against you. As of now, I am not aware of anyone who supports you. My master, the King of Montaj, would be the first to offer you support without hesitation, yet you seem poised to reject his offer.”
Armad smiled inwardly. These guests from the town of Montaj likely carried a heavy sense of arrogance. It would be difficult for him and them to reach a mutually beneficial decision. Now, Armad had two choices: either destroy the messenger’s cultivation and send him back home, or let him return unharmed. Each choice had its own set of advantages and disadvantages.
If the messenger returned home without harm, it would embolden the King of Montaj and his people, increasing their arrogance and making them more likely to attack Armad quickly. On the other hand, if Armad injured the messenger or destroyed his cultivation, it would also provoke their anger and prompt a swift retaliation.
What Armad needed most was time to develop his town. If he had enough time, he would gain the strength to the point where they could not defeat him.
A third choice loomed: to kill the messenger. If he did so, it would take time for the news to reach the king, but historically, killing a messenger infuriated kings. It would not be surprising if, upon hearing the news, the king rallied his battalion and launched an immediate attack.
After some contemplation, Armad took a deep breath and made a decision. He would stay in the middle ground. He would neither let the messenger return home unscathed nor kill him. Instead, he would destroy the core of the messenger’s cultivation.
With this decision made, Armad extended his hand forward. In a low voice, he said, “Explode.” Before he even closed his mouth, the string floating in Liam’s core detonated.
Instantly, the color drained from Liam’s face. All the blood vanished, leaving his face as white as if devoid of any blood. He uttered a terrible sound as blood flowed from his mouth, nose, and ears. The cultivation within his core began to crumble. From the peak of the Deva level, he plummeted to the third stage, and then to the second stage. His cultivation continued to diminish until it hovered between the first and second stages of Deva. Even the remaining cultivation was severely injured.
Due to the rapid decline in his cultivation, his core began to contract. Additionally, his demon and the board of his core became too large for it to contain, further injuring his cultivation.
In a swift turn of events, the messenger collapsed, succumbing to unconsciousness. Crimson blood trickled from his lips, a sight that prompted Armad to tighten his expression and rise to his feet.
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Amid this turmoil, the judge of Armad, along with the two individuals accompanying the messenger and the vigilant deva guarding Armad, entered the scene. Infuriated by the unfolding events, the companions of the messenger let out primal roars and launched an aggressive assault on Armad. However, their advance was swiftly intercepted by the intervening deva and judge. Displaying remarkable restraint, the judge unleashed his formidable aura, halting the assailant who sought to harm Armad. This assailant, a mere peak core formation cultivator, mistakenly believed he could challenge Armad, assuming equality in their cultivation levels. Had he known Armad’s true identity or respected him as the emperor’s son, he might have reconsidered his rash actions.
However, perhaps it was because he saw his leader lying unconscious with blood flowing from his mouth that he thought retaliation was possible. He believed their leader had been poisoned because, with the power he knew his leader possessed, he couldn’t believe that Armad, who was only at the core formation level, could have done that to him without using poison.
Meanwhile, a fierce battle had erupted between Armad’s deva and the one accompanying Liam. The clash of swords reverberated in the air as each combatant exchanged a flurry of ten strikes, their skills matched in intensity and precision.
Amidst the chaos, Armad stood aloof, his countenance betraying a sense of detached contentment as he observed the unfolding conflict. His satisfaction did not stem solely from easily vanquishing Liam; rather, it was derived from multiple sources. Firstly, achieving the level of pre-deva for the first time filled him with a sense of accomplishment. Secondly, armed with newfound power, he harbored unwavering confidence in his impregnability. He believed that even if he remained passive, neither the deva nor the core formation level assailant could breach his defenses, unable to leave so much as a scratch on his skin or harm his internal muscles. Furthermore, his anticipation of Nusi and her battalion’s imminent return, following their mission to conquer the towns he had vanquished in battle, fueled his optimism. With their successful conquest, Armad envisioned complete dominion over the towns under his control.
Armad understood that if the town of Montaj, which was not in his region and was significantly larger than his town, had started scheming to snatch the resources of surrounding towns, then the wealth of these towns must be substantial. This kind of wealth could attract not only the attention of Montaj but also make the towns a target for further schemes and aggression. Now that this wealth had become his own, Armad felt a deep sense of satisfaction. These were the things that made him happy.
However, there was one significant concern that weighed heavily on his mind: the number of devas in the neighboring region exceeded one hundred. This posed a significant threat. Armad quickly began calculating how he could create his devas to counter this potential danger.
The captain of Armad’s guard and the person accompanying the messenger were both at the first stage of deva. This was a critical detail for Armad because he predicted that their combat would be prolonged and destructive. The confrontation was taking place in his dining room, a location filled with personal and valuable belongings. To prevent unnecessary destruction, Armad decided to act swiftly. He raised his hand, and with a focused thought, a bolt of lightning emanated from his palm, shooting towards the deva who had accompanied the messenger.
Armad knew that a single lightning bolt would not be enough to eliminate someone who had reached the first stage of deva. However, he expected it would at least injure his opponent. Injuring the deva was not Armad’s ultimate goal; he intended to eliminate him. Yet, he did not want to waste his precious pol strings on this task. He had fewer than ten pol strings left, a result of the depletion of his Nagirinki from previous battles. Creating new pol strings was a resource-intensive process, and Armad had been conserving his remaining ones for critical moments. Therefore, unless it was necessary to explode the core of a cultivator, he refrained from using them.
Armad felt confident that eliminating this deva at the first stage would not require the use of his pol strings, sword, or even his Miyura. Instead, he decided to rely on the power of his world. By activating this power, he amplified his attack by up to 15%. Instantly, the lightning bolt he had sent hurtled towards the deva’s forehead with increased potency.
The bolt struck with precision, piercing through the deva’s forehead and exiting at the back of his head, creating a smoking hole.
The deva opened his eyes in sheer surprise. Even in his final moments, he couldn’t fathom what had struck him down. If he had been engaged in a one-on-one duel with Armad, he might have stood a chance. But in the chaos of battle, while his attention was fixed on the captain of Armad’s forces, the lethal strike from Armad himself had come out of nowhere. Unprepared for such an unexpected assault, the deva was felled by a single, devastating blow.
Armad turned his gaze toward a man who stood at the peak of the core formation level. Their eyes met, and an immediate wave of dread washed over the man. His body began to tremble uncontrollably, knees buckling as though under an immense weight. His mind raced, recalling the ferocity of the attack that had just slain his comrade. He knew that the power Armad had unleashed was equivalent to that of a first-stage deva, a level of strength that should have been beyond someone of Armad’s supposed cultivation. Was Armad hiding his true power? Had he already ascended to the level of a deva, deceiving them all by pretending to be merely at the peak of core formation?
Armad no longer considers anyone at the peak of the core formation level a threat. If his neighbors only send peak core formation cultivators to battle, he doesn't even need to go to the battlefield. Armad does not regard anyone below the level of deva as a threat. If a battalion does not consist of devas, he will simply order Nusi to materialize her trees and eliminate them. Devas are his only concern, as a single deva in a battalion can change the outcome of a battle. Because of this, Armad thinks it's a waste of time to kill anyone below the level of deva.
Armad paused, his expression unreadable, before he casually waved his hand. A powerful gust of wind materialized, lifting the man off his feet and hurling him out of the room with brutal force. He landed outside with a sickening thud, the sound of breaking bones echoing back to those still inside. His punishment for daring to attack Armad had been swift and severe. The man, now with a shattered leg, struggled to stand. Despite the excruciating pain, he managed to stagger away from the palace, his destination unknown. Was he fleeing the town altogether, or was he heading to the guest house assigned to them? No one could say for certain.
Armad glanced at his deva, who responded with a knowing nod. They had resolved that the messengers would not leave the town without their explicit permission. That was why the captain of Armad had promptly gone out and intercepted the Core Formation cultivator who had attempted to escape before heading towards the guest house designated for the messengers.
Now, silence enveloped the room. The only individuals present were the unconscious Liam Than Armad and the judge. The judge leaned over, placing his finger on Liam’s neck, feeling for a pulse. He discovered that Liam was still breathing, but there was no trace of cultivation energy within his body. The judge straightened up and cast a questioning look at Armad, seeking an explanation for what had transpired with Liam.
After a moment of contemplation, Armad shook his shoulder and said, “They demand 98% of all our monthly income as tax, claiming it is for our protection. Is there any punishment more fitting for him than this?”
The judge’s face darkened upon hearing Armad’s words. Was there truly no one else in the world for them to exploit except for their town? However, the judge quickly came to a realization. In the world of cultivation, personal strength often outweighed lineage. Even though everyone was aware Prince Armad was the son of Emperor Ayrion, his weakness was also well-known across the land. As a result, only a few people held him in high regard.