“To fix the houses, we’ve got to chop trees. To chop trees, we need knives. “

“Mhm… mhm? Huh? “

Taminqi watched as Yang Zicang organized the knives collected from various places. After packing them up, the young man hoisted the bundle of over twenty long-unused hatchets, machetes, and boning knives over his shoulder and headed out.

These had all been discovered over the past few days through “The Silent Night, ” and today, they finally proved useful.

-｛Distributor February. Dì’ān is watching my actions with a disdainful glare.｝

In the pitch-black night, Yang Zicang, clad in a coat and a warm hat, unfolded “Musing Night ” and carefully stashed the blades in inconspicuous spots around some houses. It seemed as though they had always been there, just missed by the former Fairhaven troops when they searched for weapons that might spark rebellion.

These stashing points were all near the resting places of people Ma Shuo had persuaded through personal visits that afternoon—those planning to head up the mountain the following day to chop wood and build houses.

After doing all this, Yang Zicang simply waited nearby.

People often moved around the village at night. Before long, someone discovered two machetes left by the doorway of a wooden house.

The owners of these houses, meanwhile, were still sound asleep, snoring like thunder.

Around four in the morning, Yang Zicang glanced up at the stars in the sky. “It’s almost time. “

A figure slid quietly out of the darkness, hugging the wall.

Yang Zicang handed him some of the “Dance Fire Newspaper ” sheets—filled with inflammatory commentary from the past few days.

The man took them, nodded, silently pulled his cap back down, and sprinted away into the distance.

The papers were scattered, one in the east and one in the west, placed beside some people who were fast asleep out in the open.

After finishing all this, Anxi arrived outside the Depot Inn, coughed a few times, and paced around the entrance.

Catching sight that someone inside indeed noticed the unfamiliar figure, Anxi, wearing a large hat that covered his head, had just been about to step into the warehouse inn when suddenly, with a clatter, a boning knife slipped from his coat and clattered to the ground!

Along with it fluttered a piece of paper!

The people inside witnessed the man at the doorstep, who hadn’t uttered a single word, as if startled by his own doing, snatch up the boning knife and flee.

A man dashed out of the warehouse in a hurry.

He could no longer see that idiot who had sliced his own coat pocket with his boning knife, but this piece of paper…

An ordinary-looking man with an evidently trained physique stooped to pick it up; the content seemed familiar, yet copied together now, it radiated power.

—The navy of Telanaxi will leave sooner or later; the “civilization ” of Telanaxi is doomed to fail!

—Why are the Herzen people and the Holzbürg people the most excellent races in this world?

—We cannot yield for the sake of a single bag of grain or one act of charity. Who ultimately foots the bill for all of this? Who develops those mines, who enjoys the warm hearth fires in the castles, and how will our brothers live out the rest of their lives—have you ever considered that?

—We urge everyone to learn from the spirit of the “Fire Dance Gazette ” just as the “Qingying Gazette ” does, to spread it far and wide, igniting the courage within us…

—Tomorrow at eight, go up the mountain to chop firewood!

This man gasped sharply, a chill running down his spine.

He dashed into the warehouse, grabbed his coat, braved the frosty chill to step out of the warehouse inn, scouted along the village path for a bit, then hurried frantically toward the troops stationed in the mountains.

……

At five in the morning, Jean Conrad was jolted awake by the cold, shivering uncontrollably. For some reason, he felt a eerie chill in the air. When he opened the door, Yang Buchen was already sweeping the yard outside.

“So early. “

“Aren’t you quite early too? Oh, by the way, today everyone’s going to cut trees and repair the houses. This is a rare chance to showcase the disaster victims’ spirit of self-reliance. “

“Ah, then I’ll have to go and record it. “

Jean Conrad rubbed his hands together, went back to grab the camera, tucked it inside a coat, wrapped up, and headed out.

……

Soon, the soldiers of the Telangersi mountain garrison arrived, rifles hoisted, forming ranks.

Amid the panic-stricken crowd, they surrounded the village, going door to door to search for knives and dangerous speech.

People who had just gotten up to sharpen their axes for woodcutting up the mountain were forced out by the soldiers, hands held high, marched toward the plaza. The air was thick with a heavy, oppressive silence.

At the eastern edge of the village.

Ma Shuo and Yin Bo, their foreheads pressed against the muzzles of several rifles, emerged from their rooms.

“You were planning to incite a riot, it seems! “

Ma Shuo’s face was flushed bright red—whether from swelling rage or shame, no one could tell.

The wind outside cut at both their ears; the lower halves were reddened, but the upper halves stayed in their usual tones, yet, oddly, no one seemed suspicious.

In the distance, a reporter, noticing something was amiss and swiftly hiding in a dense canopy, surreptitiously lifted their camera.

Jean Conrad’s chest burned with rage, a fire consuming him. He swore to record every injustice happening here, no matter what it took!

Foreign soldiers, on our soil, pressing their guns against our people—for no reason other than that they had dared to profess their belief in the Grand Duke!

For no reason other than that they had sharpened a rusty woodcutter’s axe, prepared to fell some trees! For no reason other than they wanted to build a few more cabins, offering shelter from the bitter cold for thousands left homeless and stranded here!

Heavens above, what kind of world has this come to be?

Jean Conrad wished, at that very moment, he could stand up and roar, pouring into his words a scathing condemnation of Telanaxi, Pferham, and even those armies from other nations that had once carted off so many from the borderlands of the Grand Duchy.

They drove off men in droves from those frontier lands, turning them into slaves for menial labor, forcing them to work without end, dawn to dusk.

This was not how the world was supposed to be!

Bang! The crack of a gunshot echoed out. The reporter ducked, startled, whipping his head around toward the sound.

It came from the square where a lieutenant, high in rank, had fired a warning shot toward the sky.

Thousands of terrified people instantly collapsed to the ground, their heads buried in their arms, looking for all the world like stalks of young wheat beaten to the earth by a sudden hailstorm—leaving only the soldiers from Telanaxi still standing, rifles at the ready.

Trembling but defiant, the reporter silently raised his camera once more.

……

“Oh? Eight in the morning, heading up the mountain to chop wood? Very well—tell me: were you REALLY going to chop wood? “

The officer sneered, clutching a piece of paper in his fingers. Marching back and forth before the fallen prisoners, he read its contents in a loud, contemptuous sneer—every single line came straight from the pages printed by the Dancing Fire Gazette​.

The lieutenant’s dark gun barrel swept across their heads in a lazy circle, and the crowd dared not even look up.

“You say you want to chop wood. Fine—then go chop. If you don’t fell every tree on this mountain by day’s end, we’ll chop off every last one of your heads! “

Those who had spoken of cutting trees that morning were dragged out and separated. With rifles raised and aimed at their raised hands, the troops marched them in a column from the village.

Their families stood by, eyes filled with tears, watching the fathers, husbands, and sons being hauled away—daring not even to let out a whisper. The armed foreign soldiers seemed to crush all light from this place; in an instant, wind and snow began to swirl down.

• ｛Distributor February. Di’an reassigns rate to the Glory-before-Birth I am crafting.｝
• ｛Distributor Di’an wishes to raise the price of the birth-glory I craft by 15%.｝

Hidden nearby, Yang Zicang pulled his clothes and hat tighter around himself.

“Ma Shuo, be sure to protect the woodcutters. I trust you. “

• ｛Distributor May Valkyrie raises the price of the Glory-before-Birth I craft by 100%.｝

……

A couple of days later, Jean Conrad left in a rush, unable to wait any longer.

With Yang Zicang near, he found it as effortless as crossing the mountains in a path—he easily passed over several mountain ridges and saw the faint outline of a pre-dawn city in the distance.

White Violet City stood enveloped in snow and wind under the morning light, like a vast snowflake bleached into a blur, revealing the brick-and-stone core beneath the melting white surface.

“These are for you.“

Yang Zicang pressed down on the navy-style cap on his head, then handed the bundle, which he had carried on his back all the way, into the hands of the man before him—a figure radiating intense warmth.

“This is…” Jean Conrad was stunned upon opening it.

“Your report is bound to stir up some vested interests, as well as a few foreign spies hiding in the city. So you’ll need these to smooth things over. Take them.“

A look of disgust and reluctance appeared on the journalist’s face. “Thanks for the kind thought, but I think I can manage on my own.“

“Oh?“

“I didn’t make it here on just wit and nerve alone.“

Yang Zicang looked at the man with a hint of surprise. “But it’s better to be safe than sorry. Some things can’t be done without them. This is for everyone’s good.“

“Hmm… you have a point. Alright, then. I’ll return anything I don’t use to Baoyu Village.“

The journalist took the heavy package. Its outer layer was disguised with shells, herbs, and such, while inside lay valuable watches and pearls.

Yang Zicang watched him descend the mountain until his figure vanished into the dense woods alongside the road.

{Mr. Zicang, what should we do next? }

Old Thirteen’s link came through.

“Next, I’ll need you, Anxi, to covertly protect him in the city, and act as my go-between, when needed. Can you do that? This is something that’s bound to birth a ‘Radiance.’“

{I’m absolutely up for it! }

“Then I leave the reporter’s safety in your hands. Feel free to use that fortune as you see fit. “

Anxi, who had been hiddenly following all along, responded with a surge of excitement, his figure turning into a swift silhouette darting into the woods at the foot of the mountain.

Yang Zicang glanced back at the White Violet Mountain Range behind him.

-｛Radiance: Distributor Loki. Tata Mingqi expresses “delight. “｝

If it were merely a matter of bringing those few thousand people into the city, he could still choose to risk a fight.

Or, just as he had found “Old Thirteen ” Anxi, he could track down more lingering hometown folk and together launch a campaign of the Fogfolk against Teransi.

But even that wouldn’t change much.

“So, let it brew. I believe it won’t be long before their navy is driven out of here. “

Yang Zicang pressed down on his hat, pulled out the “Book Page, ” and swiftly plunged into the woods in a different direction.

｛428th year, 3rd month, 28th day, 6:08. Southeast of White Violet City, Mrs. Sazzana posted a house rental ad.｝

｛428th year, 3rd month, 28th day, 6:08. Southeast of White Violet City, a spy named Steffen bought a morning tea.｝

｛428th year, 3rd month, 28th day, 6:09. Southeast of White Violet City, Diane Glenn, driving a wagon loaded with smuggled leather, encountered a security check…｝