Chapter 4: Wings of Pallor

Page 1/3

The capital of the Duchy of Effine is named Emerald City, truly a city that never sleeps. At night, the city shines brilliantly; the shimmering magical lamps dispel all darkness, resembling a rose ruby blooming in the desert. Cohen walked along the grand avenues of Emerald City, lightly touching his chest as the “Eternal Heart” turned, and a flawless magical crystal appeared in his hand.

This crystal was struck off from the staff the queen had gifted him. Exchanging it rashly was too risky; he had to find an organization capable of handling such items. Cohen changed into mercenary attire, donned a mask, and strolled toward a storefront selling magical scrolls.

The shopkeeper was a portly middle-aged merchant. Seeing a customer arrive, he beamed with a broad smile: “Sir, what kind of scrolls do you need? All our scrolls are handcrafted by students of the Royal Academy of Magic—guaranteed quality and quantity, honest to all…”

Cohen waved off the introduction and drew a white streak on the wall beside him with his index finger, then pronounced slowly, “Perfection to the extreme becomes pale.”

The merchant was suddenly startled, his eyes wide with a mix of suspicion and disbelief. A faint smile crossed Cohen’s face as he placed a magical crystal on the counter and said, “Tell Mr. Mordo, a big deal is coming!”

At these words, the merchant’s face turned deathly pale, panic evident.

...

The Pale Wing—a trade guild with the largest presence and greatest power across the Magma Continent. Here, anything can be traded. If you can afford the price, even demigods can be at your beck and call!

Behind the Pale Wing stands a true deity—the God of Contracts and Fairness, Cavendish Libra.

In a dim basement, four bare walls surrounded a low ceiling from which hung a shabby kerosene lamp. Before Cohen sat a glass of plain water; opposite him was a refined, fair-skinned middle-aged man who had not shifted his gaze since Cohen entered. Beside him sat the earlier merchant, also eyeing Cohen with ill intent.

The atmosphere was oppressive and stifling. Cohen suddenly chuckled softly: “Mr. Mordo, how is the appraisal going?”

The refined man snapped back to attention and replied calmly, “The item is certainly genuine, but my interest in you greatly surpasses that flawless magical crystal. I’m curious—who exactly are you? It’s one thing to know the Pale Wing’s secrets, but how do you know I’m here?”

Mordo pondered fiercely. He had only been in Emerald City secretly for three days; the Pale Wing’s internal affairs were top secret. This newcomer’s ability to call him out so directly was astonishing.

Cohen shrugged lightly: “According to Pale Wing’s rules, anything can be traded if the price is right. I can tell you who I am—but are you sure you can pay the price?”

Mordo raised an eyebrow:

Page 2/3

“How much?”

Cohen replied, “How about the crown of the Duchy of Effine?”

Mordo suddenly laughed: “So you’re here to get a piece of the pie?”

Cohen was noncommittal: “All kinds of rebels have gathered in Effine. Naturally, I want to join the fray. I heard the royal court was attacked a few days ago—is that your doing?”

Mordo’s eyes flickered. The fact that this man knew such classified information only deepened his curiosity. He said, “Name your price, and I’ll tell you.”

Cohen spoke softly, “Is that magical crystal enough?”

Mordo smiled: “Enough. The answer is no—the Pale Wing did not take on that commission.”

Cohen nodded slightly, then produced eight flawless magical crystals: “You can verify these. I want to trade all eight.”

Mordo’s eyes flickered: “Which empire are you from? So many flawless crystals, all ice-elemental. Could it be the Northern Empire?”

Cohen said nothing, only: “Mr. Mordo, don’t break the Pale Wing’s rules—I quite like your organization.”

Mordo’s expression faltered; he pocketed the crystals and asked, “All cash?”

Cohen shook his head: “No. I’ll directly purchase three thousand slaves, and regularly supply food for three thousand more.”

Mordo clicked his tongue: “Brother, you’re planning to get your hands dirty yourself—bold move!”

Cohen smiled faintly: “If you’re interested, you can buy shares. When it’s done, I’ll make you a prince.”

Mordo laughed heartily:

Page 3/3

“Young man, that’s confidence for you.”

Cohen was unmoved by Mordo’s sarcasm and continued, “I want all three thousand slaves to be half-orcs, preferably from the bear or tiger clans. How many days would you need?”

Mordo’s face stiffened in shock: “Three thousand half-orcs? Don’t tell me you intend to build an army with half-orcs?”

Half-orcs are humans with distinct orcish traits—offspring of orcs and humans. They can activate their orc bloodline, making them far stronger than ordinary human warriors.

But half-orcs have a fatal flaw: they’re not very intelligent. They don’t understand commands, cannot be trained, and can’t be effectively led on the battlefield.

A classic joke on the continent goes: one half-orc is a brave warrior; ten half-orcs make a decent guard; a hundred half-orcs are just a hundred wild pigs—unruly and uncontrollable.

Some have tried forcibly training half-orcs into an army, but on the battlefield, they become headless flies, charging indiscriminately at friend and foe alike, utterly disobedient—or rather, unable to comprehend orders.

Mordo suspected Cohen was a second-generation scion from some empire or kingdom, utterly inexperienced and ignorant of warfare, daring to propose an army of half-orcs.

Or perhaps Cohen’s plan was to unleash three thousand half-orcs to wreak havoc in Emerald City? But that made no sense. What everyone wanted was a chaotic yet profitable Effine, not one reduced to ruins and endless warfare.

Moreover, three thousand disorganized half-orcs could not cause any meaningful impact.

Mr. Mordo truly could not fathom Cohen’s line of thought.

Cohen smiled without replying.

The issue of half-orcs not understanding commands was perfectly solved three years later with the discovery of the Arcane Empire’s ruins.

The “Unison Sigil” was a thousand-year-old wisdom crystal from the Arcane Empire.

As long as the “Unison Sigil” was inscribed on each half-orc and an exceptional general was found, an invincible, unstoppable half-orc legion could be trained!

The future legendary war god Arnold rose to fame with this half-orc legion—so formidable that even the elite royal guards of the Central Empire could not withstand their charge!

According to the previous timeline, Arnold was still an unremarkable adventurer at this point. Soon, during an adventure, he would stumble upon the Arcane Empire’s ruins, discover the “Unison Sigil,” and thus begin his legendary military career.

Once the method to produce the “Unison Sigil” became public, half-orc slaves instantly became the hottest commodity on the continent.

Unlike savages, orcs, and elves—races with their own gods—half-orcs had no deity to protect them. Slave hunters preyed on them without restraint.

Half-orc military units instantly became the first choice for armies, sending prices soaring. Eventually, the five great empires jointly issued a ban on trading half-orc slaves in groups exceeding one hundred.

But in this life, with Cohen around, everything would be different!

The “Unison Sigil” and the half-orc legion—these would be Cohen’s first pot of gold!