The slash intensified as it accelerated, swirling and expanding like a budding vine.
Armad sensed that even a seasoned warrior could be cleanly cut by it if they weren’t cautious enough.
What amazed him most was that he hadn’t utilized any of his skills; yet, the sword replicated three of his skills and unleashed them simultaneously.
His initial opportunity was to employ a skill reminiscent of that of the Wilberforce, renowned for imbuing weapons with their cultivation absorption ability and bestowing that capability upon any weapon.
Currently, he seized this opportunity from the sword without a second thought or the need to activate his Eye of Wilberforce in advance.
Then there was the moving sword strike, a skill relatively accessible for those with sufficient funds to acquire and master it from the market.
The usual cost was at least 2 million Ayrid, but Armad received it gratis without even tapping into his core.
The sword handled all these tasks for him while enhancing the potency of his strikes.
There was simply no comparison between one wielding this particular sword and one without it.
In a face-off between two opponents of equal cultivation, one wielding the sword and the other not, the swordbearer would almost invariably emerge victorious.
Armad exhaled softly.
“And how many of these swords do you possess?” he inquired.
Alabuda hesitated before responding.
“This sword is challenging to forge, Your Highness, and we don’t have many of them like the explosives. Currently, I can only produce 60, but they are considerably more expensive than the explosives.
“We will require a bucket of each herb on our list as payment for one sword.”
Armad pondered this silently. He had anticipated as much. There was no way a sword of such caliber would be as affordable as explosives, which served their purpose with a single use, detonating upon activation.
However, the sword could be utilized repeatedly until it wore out or became ineffective.
He couldn’t help but be impressed by the fact that as certain as he was that the sword was forged using runes and seals, the inscriptions still eluded his Wilberforcian sight.
Had the runes been inserted even before the molten iron was forged? Such a possibility lingered briefly in his mind before he dismissed it. He knew these artisans wouldn’t divulge their secrets under any circumstances.
Furthermore, revealing their secrets to him would render them obsolete, as he could then craft his swords and cease trading with them.
“Half a bucket per sword,” Armad declared firmly, though he was aware that purchasing both weapons could impact not only the King’s Legion’s allocation but also that of the Medicine Producers Association.
At present, however, he was indifferent. No Medicine Producers Association had aided him in his time of need, despite the city’s years of supplying them with herbs; they had nothing to show for their cooperation.
Right now, he felt in control of his life, and under no circumstances would he entrust his destiny to anyone else’s hands.
“What other weapons do you offer?” he inquired once more.
“We have spears and arrows,” Alabuda replied. “Nothing particularly exceptional about them that Your Highness wouldn’t find elsewhere. However, I would like to offer them to you at a discount: a thousand for one bowl of food.” Armad contemplated silently. The price seemed remarkably low. Alabuda had mentioned “a bowl of food,” indicating he might accept alternative forms of payment. This could greatly benefit his legion.
Yet, there was a glaring loophole in this arrangement if ever executed. He believed that essential items like weapons shouldn’t be entrusted to an empire essentially composed of strangers. It would be akin to risking their lives in the hands of the unknown.
He believed that the relationship between him and Alabuda’s people was strictly business-oriented. Each party had something desired by the other, and that was the extent of their connection.
This meant their ties could be severed at any moment. With battles rampant in those days, the islanders could decide to attack at any time if they saw something of value worth risking their lives for.
Considering this, it was exceedingly risky to rely on them for all the weapons he intended to use.
The wisest course of action was to procure weapons from them without jeopardizing his craftsmen.
Buying every weapon, including spears and arrows, solely because they were cheaper, would only lead to disaster. Without buyers, both the craft and the craftsmen would soon perish.
The Imperials and other cultivators were their main clientele, so if he chose to purchase from the islanders and distribute the goods among them for profit, their business would soon collapse.
While turning a profit might offer temporary satisfaction, the adverse effects on the city would be long-lasting.
He sighed deeply and shook his head. “No,” he stated firmly. “We do not need something as ordinary as that. If you wish to engage in business with us, you must offer something new. Moreover, there are plenty of skilled blacksmiths here who can craft arrows and spears. You’re welcome to purchase from us if you require them.”
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Upon hearing this, Alabuda burst into laughter. He had engaged in business for a long time, but never had any words amused him as much as Armad’s statement just now.
The notion of someone attempting to sell them weapons was absurd to him. The image of their vast arsenal immediately came to his mind, so expansive that the sheer quantity of weapons threatened to overwhelm them.
Although they lacked fertile soil for farming, they had been trained since childhood in the art of weapon forging.
The weapons they traded were outdated by their standards, inferior even, as they couldn’t possibly offer their latest innovations for trade.
“I doubt we’ll ever need weapons from you,” Alabuda chuckled once more.
Armad understood the source of his laughter, but deep within, he harbored the belief that his blacksmiths could one day reach such heights that the islanders wouldn’t dare to provoke him.
He believed that there would come a time when they would require weapons from him. It was just a matter of time.
Soon, agreements were reached, and Armad set out to instruct the judge to collect every herb from around the city.
Although the harvest was still ongoing, more than two-thirds of the herbs had already been gathered to prevent spoilage.
He directed the weighing and measuring of the herbs using the special bucket they employed. In the interest of fairness, Alabuda and his associates were shown the quantity before it was packaged. Once everything was prepared, the boxes of weapons were brought inside the palace.
Alabuda bid his farewell, informing Armad that they would depart in two days but might return in about three months with new weapons. They pledged to bring additional explosives, swords, and any other new armaments they might acquire, hoping Armad would make further purchases.
Shortly after, they were escorted back to their accommodations to finalize preparations for their upcoming journey.
Back at the palace, the judge sat before Armad, visibly struggling to voice something but lacking the courage to do so.
Sensing the judge’s hesitation, Armad decided to take the lead.
“Speak,” he ordered. The judge glanced at Nusi, who stood a few feet away. He seemed to suggest to the prince that discussing matters in the presence of a maidservant was inappropriate.
Armad waved his hand dismissively. “It’s fine,” he reassured. “You can go ahead and speak in her presence.”
The judge sighed deeply. Perhaps the prince was infatuated with this young woman, but as a judge, it was his duty to shield him from any unwelcome feminine attention. He felt compelled to ensure the young lady harbored genuine intentions toward him.
He resolved to investigate her discreetly, having already placed her under surveillance. He sought to ascertain whether she harbored any malicious designs against the prince.
“Forgive me, Your Highness, but I fear we have little herbs remaining for the Medicine Producers Association at present,” he admitted.
“Don’t you see the potential repercussions? The King’s Legion and others are all poised to undermine us. Though we’ve vanquished the bandits, some adversaries won’t rest until we’ve succumbed,” he cautioned.
Armad had anticipated this scenario, having pondered it even while in discussion with Alabuda. Thus, he was prepared for the judge’s admonition.
“Inform any inquirers that our farms were ravaged by wild people,” he instructed. “Tell them they may receive what little remains, but it’s their prerogative whether to accept it or not.”
He waved off the judge, dismissing him. He had long ceased to hold respect for the Medicine Producers Association, despite the Medicine Producers Association never openly opposing him. Nonetheless, they ought to be ashamed to request anything from him.
He wasn’t naive enough to resume trading with them after all that had transpired. They should have foreseen the wild people's attack and logically anticipated the vandalism of farms and storage facilities housing the herbs. Without the System, the city would have faced complete devastation.
He cared little whether they accepted this explanation or not, but the true challenge would arise the following year when they returned for the herbs. He was certain they wouldn’t tolerate another excuse from him then.
However, he believed that by that time, he would wield enough power to compel them to abandon any malicious intent.
“Summon all the farmers,” Armad instructed as an afterthought just before the judge reached the door. “Those who persisted in farming during the crisis should be grouped separately. Likewise, those who abandoned their farms but have since returned.”
With this, Armad aimed to convene with the farmers and conduct a survey of all farms surrounding the city to advance his plans. He also required food and intended to select the most suitable farms for this purpose.
The judge nodded in agreement. “I also request a list of pesticides and insect repellent to combat the pest infestation plaguing the people’s farms.”
Suddenly, something dawned on him, and he couldn’t conceal his astonishment. He stared blankly, mouth agape, as he recalled a pill he had received upon his arrival. It was called “insect repellent,” and only now did it resurface in his memory.
Although he wasn’t particularly knowledgeable about farming in either of his lives, he understood enough to recognize the destructive impact of insects and pests on plants.
He pondered whether the insect repellent could be utilized for the farmlands now. With a deep sigh, Armad rose from his seat and decided to accompany the judge.
“Take me to the largest farm in the city,” he instructed.
Meanwhile, Nusi had finished consuming the skin-enhancing pills left for her during Armad’s meeting with Alabuda. Now, she moved swiftly to stand just behind him.
Enduring the customary searing pain induced by the pills, she discovered something remarkable in return: a 2% increase in her skin toughness. Though still far from Armad’s 40% toughness, she was astonished when she attempted to slash her hand. Despite exerting all her strength, she couldn’t penetrate her palm; the blade began to bend as though striking metal.
She realized that the prince was full of surprises, a rarity even in the world she had left behind.
As she led the way, she reminded herself of the need to protect this prince if she wished to vanquish the warriors of Ururu. With their adversaries already en route, she felt an urgent obligation to do her utmost to safeguard him, even at the expense of her own life.
Before long, the three-man delegation reached the outskirts of the city in the southwestern part of town. Spread out before them was a vast farmland stretching for approximately 3 kilometers. Scattered amidst the expanse were several structures resembling tents, though they served as dwellings for the farmhands and their families.
Most of the farmhands resided in the largest farmhouse in the city, owned by the wealthiest merchant in town. This farmhouse also accommodated Alhaji Saminu’s family.
News of the delegation’s visit preceded them to the farm’s owner, Alhaji Saminu. He held considerable wealth and influence among the city’s elite, maintaining a close relationship with the palace. Their mutual assistance ensured his produce was effortlessly transported to the palace for sale, with Alhaji receiving his share of the profits without delay.
Since Armad’s arrival, Alhaji Saminu had not encountered any payment issues—a stark contrast to his experiences before Armad’s reign. Previously, he had tolerated delayed or nonexistent payments due to lack of recourse, supplemented by income from his shops and taxes collected from users of roads under his jurisdiction.
Informed of their arrival beforehand, a crowd had gathered by the time the delegation reached the farm. After exchanging several bows of greeting, Armad was escorted inside, commencing a tour of the farm.
The tour was divided into various sections, including the rice, maize, millet, and other food and grain farms.
There was also a dedicated section solely for medicinal herbs and shrubs, spanning a width of 300 meters. The entire expanse was enveloped in lush greenery as far as the eye could see.
The air was perfumed with the scent of flowers and herbs, lending a soothing ambiance to the surroundings.
Upon stepping foot into the field, Armad deeply inhaled the fragrant air, feeling certain herbs stirring his cultivation within him. However, he swiftly regained control and focused his attention on studying the herbs. It was then that he heard the familiar voice of the System in his mind.