Anna had expected this answer, passing the wooden emblem into the hand of Aegis with a solemn expression, she said, “Then, I will appoint you as the one in charge of the elves.”
Aegis stared blankly for a few moments, holding the wooden emblem in one of her hands, and a biscuit in another, she asked, “Why me?”
Anna replied, “Because you are very strong.”
“As for the emblem, just think of it as an exchange for the biscuit,” Anna then added.
Aegis was an imbecile, so Anna was not referring to her strength in leadership or ability to scheme, rather, it was in reference to her prowess in the department of pure strength, which was more than adequate to suppress all the other elves Ovid had freed.
When Cal Matriarch had first risen up, she had relied on her many sworn brothers and sisters, as her strength was insufficient to rule over any conquered subjects. After Cal Matriarch had strengthened her bloodline and became a truly prominent individual, these no longer mattered, those sworn brothers and sisters that possessed ulterior motives were suppressed snuffed out, and their position replaced with blind followers.
Although Aegis was a weak-minded person, she not only inherited her mother’s talent but also received blessings from the natural phenomenon that occurred when she had first entered this world.
---
Cai Hua had told Ovid that the only way to defeat an immortal is through calculation and shamelessness. Unfortunately, Ovid was not a shameless individual, however, he ability to deal with numbers could only be described as impossibly good.
While Cai Hua had said that it would take him twenty years of training to be able to defeat the weakest of saints, Ovid was a person who believed that no preparation was too much preparation.
Sitting by the bedside, was many stacks of fine Cai Lun paper that every scholar in the East craves, by its side, was the quill made from the left-wing of a Phoenix harvested during its moult that occurred only every five centuries, when the beast will undergo rebirth. The ink was ferrous oak gall ink, which was also the ink used by the Pope.
These were sufficient to be the yearly tribute given by many smaller nations, standing in for mountains of gold. How much riches could one gain by selling these?
Only someone like Cai Hua could afford to give such precious items to their disciples.
Ovid took another piece of the Cai Lun paper, hastily dipping the phoenix quill into the ferrous oak gall ink. He scribbled many incoherent words onto the paper, each letter smaller than an ant, yet written at such a speed that only someone at the level of deacon could see the ink transferring onto the paper. The words itself possessed a spontaneous character, indicating that the speed Ovid had been thinking in, had exceeded the speed of his hand.
It was not long before the entire page was filled.
The ink was still warm from the speed Ovid had been writing.
After briefly staring at the words he had written, Ovid wordlessly scrunches the precious Cai Lun paper, throwing it toward the bin.
Yet the bin was already filled with these Cai Hua paper, thusly, scrunched up ball travelled across the room, before finally landing on a random spot in the room, lying comfortably among many other balls, forming a thick layer that covered the floor.
It’s akin to decorating the floor with sheets of gold.
After another page was overfilled with ink, Ovid examined it once more, finding the contents satisfactory, he proceeded to place it skillfully onto another pile of the paper. The paper, which was as thin as cicada wings, displayed the words written on the page that was at the very bottom of the stack.
The first page comprehended the few details Cai Lin had given regarding his personal life, his many wives, his grassroots beginnings, how he talked and acted, the range of emotions displayed. Then, Ovid began examining Cai Hua’s method of fighting, which was rather simple compared to his character, as all the attacks Cai Hua would use consist of the most basic actions, yet each line was perfected to the tiniest detail of the movement of every muscle that would be used by Cai Lin, which was surprisingly very little.
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The next pages, a total of thirty, were the possible progressions each battle could delve in, along with the corresponding actions to be returned by Ovid, continuing until the fiftieth exchange, before another set of actions for the battle would be written.
Anna, after her conversation with Aegis, had gone to the market square of the city. Even considering the time Anna would usually spend on such activities, Ovid had only begun writing down these strategies since noon, even now, the sun had yet to fade.
The clouds in the sky parted, and the sun was replaced by a sea of stars, covering the room in silvery light.
The time for dinner had passed, but Ovid had yet to eat, his phoenix quill continuing to dance on the Cai Lun paper, leaving behind countless segments of text.
The door was well oiled, so when it was opened and pushed aside many of the paper scraps Ovid had disposed of, there was no sound made.
Even if there were a sound, Ovid would not give off any reactions, as he was too focused on the stratagem against Cai Lin.
Anna, trodding through the massive pile of paper that has gathered by now said, “I heard that you haven’t eaten yet. Since I brought some fresh fruits and yogurt, you can eat them to stave off hunger.”
Ovid did not reply, his hands continuing to write, causing Anna to ponder that he was still frustrated with her. It was only after a long time, did Anna asks.
“Is this normal?”
Ovid’s position had not shifted for a long time, his back was straighter than a pencil. As he nodded, it was therefore particularly stiff.
Anna sighed in her heart, placing down the bag she carried with her atop of the bed, one of the few places yet to be covered with paper, she said in a curious tone after glancing through the page Ovid was currently writing on, “Cai Hua is a mysterious person that has lived for over 200 years, possessing countless skills and knowledge.”
The quill in Ovid’s hand stopped as he replied in a husky and dry voice, “I understand, but it is still good to be prepared.”
Anna thought that what Ovid said makes sense, she offered, “Then, do you want me to help you calculate?”
Ovid pondered upon that while his quill spends up once again, after throwing away another page, he answered, “I’ve yet to teach you calculus.”
Anna understood the meaning behind Ovid, taking off her shoes, she placed the blanket over herself, closing her eyes, she said, “I am not willing to learn today.”
Ovid made a sound of acknowledgement.
---
In the residence that had been all but taken over by nature, Martha carefully inspected her armour, quickly casting a spell, she removed any dirt and filth it possessed, but the layer of green rust still remained, along with many cracks the armour possess.
Then, Martha carefully polished her horns’ decoration, switching out the damaged gems for the jewellery recently acquired in the mine the reemerged.
Although Martha possesses no positive feels toward Julia, she must admit that Julia’s ability to hoard wealth far surpasses her own. This thought angered Martha, who proceeded to crush the gemstone held in her hand.
Realising that she had destroyed her precious ornament, Martha grew angry once again, shoving the powder remaining in her hand into her mouth, Martha proclaimed, “Julia, you d*mn snake, you said that the lands here are rich and prosperous, but aside from the mountains, there are only more mountains, and none of them even contain any good ore despots!”
Truly, the treasures that a dragon could love spans from the most desolate of armour, and the most beautiful of jewellery.
Of course, abstract treasures, such as the grandness of a mountain, and the intricate beauty of life, are worthless to dragons.
Angrily kicking her green armour with her full strength, Martha then complained to one of the fading dragon carving on her armour, “Now that you said you’re coming to inspect your vassals. Do you really think I am stupid? It’s obviously an act to suppress me!”
“She knows that slavery has been an issue here since the days of that freak Alexander. If she really was that benevolent as those idiots say, she would have abolished it the moment she usurped the empire.”
Kicking her armour once again, a look of horror-filled Martha’s eyes. Squatting down, Martha embraced her ancient armour, she whispered to it, as if coaxing a child, “I was bad, I shouldn’t have vented my hate from that witch on you.”
Casting a great spell, Martha’s large forehead became soaked with sweat but seeing the dent caused by her kicks visibly reversing, a smile appeared on her overly decorated face.
As the armour fully recovered to its former, not so pristine form, one of her servants, said in a soft voice, quieter than a mosquito, “My lady, there has been a person going around purchasing, than freeing all the slaves in the city, particularly the elven courtesans. Since many come major merchants families, they had been requesting us to intervene.”
The servant wore an overly flamboyant dress, decorated with golden threads and diamonds, yet her head, which was staring at the tip of her shoes, gave off a submissive feel that did not match her clothing.
Martha had far more servants than Julia, who could only call upon Anna. However, the number of servants Martha had was still far less than those owned by the nobles in the human kingdom, who would have entire villages dedicated to such a task.
Martha clicked her tongue, lifting herself up from the floor, she said in an imposing manner, “Those merchants are participating in illegal activities anyway. The person purchasing these slaves is actually doing me a flavour. Find her residence, and give her an honorary title.”
“Considering that that woman paid for the redemption of slaves out of her own pocket, shouldn’t we give her a monetary reward?”
Immediately after the servant said these words, she regretted it greatly, as a dark expression quickly emerged on Martha’s face on the mention of anything to do with money.
Martha waved her hand, forcing the servant to look at her directly, staring intensely at her servant’s pupils, Martha said, “Although you are pretty pleasing to the eye, you are not pleasing to the ears.”
The servants hastily said, “I deserve death.”
Martha sighed, looking at the youthful face of the servant, she stated, “Out of my benevolence and your potential, give yourself twenty lashings.”
The servant grabbed the edge of her stola, she squeezed out with much difficulty, “Thank you for your benevolence.”
Martha nodded with a smile, bearing her white and razor-sharp teeth as she watched the servant retreat. After the steps of the servant can no longer be heard by an ordinary human, Martha proceeded to polish her armour, humming a rustic and old tune as she does so.
It was a truly weird scene, as the polish seemed to have no effect on the rust that is ever so prevalent on Martha’s armour, yet Martha seemed to never polish the same place twice.
Then she began polishing her weapons, which were equally coated in a layer of rust as her armour, albeit the rust now, was red.
Hearing the sound of painful wail that originated from the lashing chamber, Martha adjusted the tune she was humming to match that of the screams.