Leopold’s offer is pretty damn good!

  If Henwell were just some minor noble lord.

  If Henwell were only a gifted Grand Knight.

  But sadly, Henwell is already an Iron Knight.

  And not just that, he’s the lord of Blood Hill, commanding a hundred thousand troops, controlling over twenty thousand square kilometers, with millions living under his rule.

  Thanks to Newwood’s intel and Henwell’s own digging over the past ten days, he has a decent grasp of the Abundant Continent.

  A lot of people here actually come from the Abundant Continent.

  When someone from a rich, fertile nd gets basically half-exiled to this backwater, their only pride is their origin.

  Whether it’s boosting their own value or nostalgia for home, a few drinks, the right compliments, mixed with some ignorance and curiosity, and finishing with admiring, longing eyes, that’s enough to get them babbling endlessly about everything they know about the Abundant Continent.

  Sure, the Abundant Continent is more prosperous, with a bigger popution and nd area than the Forgotten Continent.

  But the gap isn’t on some massive scale.

  The overall difference between the countries and even the nobles on both sides isn’t an unbridgeable chasm.

  Henwell doesn’t deny the Groias Empire’s power; it’s still a giant not to be trifled with.

  But to say a marquis or even a count of the empire could steamroll Henwell? That’s just bullshit.

  If it were a duke with real power, maybe Henwell would be a bit wary.

  And even then, only for now.

  Once Henwell rules over tens of millions of people and more than ten thousand square kilometers, or breaks through to Glory Knight rank, the empire’s dukes will just be a minor annoyance.

  Right now, this desperate attempt to woo him proves Leopold’s family is already on the decline.

  That fierce ancestor of Leopold’s is probably long dead.

  Otherwise, the bloodline family would never let outsiders taint their lineage.

  And with the ancestor around, they wouldn’t waste resources nurturing outsiders as professionals.

  Putting all this together, Henwell is pretty much certain that the old ancestor is no longer alive.

  At that moment, faced with Leopold’s arrogant attempt to woo him, Henwell taps the Padin badge on his chest.

  It’s also a cross star emblem, but this one looks like a long, slender sword.

  Compared to the Holy Spirit Church’s other cross star badges, this one’s more delicate and elongated.

  Henwell says calmly, without bowing or yielding, “I’m a Padin of the Church. City Lord, you’d better stop joking.”

  Leopold narrows his eyes. “Do you think I’m joking? Or do you believe my words and promises are just empty talk?”

  Henwell replies coolly, “I think it’s a joke. Otherwise, City Lord, your words would be stirring trouble between the Church and the Empire.”

  Leopold stares at Henwell for a moment, then suddenly waves his hand with a bored expression. “What a disappointment. Seems like there’s a reason you became a Padin. Just a few days in, and you’ve turned into one of those cold-blooded killing machines! I was just joking, and you get so serious. How boring! Damn boring!”

  With that, Leopold ignores Henwell and turns to leave the reception hall.

  Henwell doesn’t linger at the city lord’s mansion. He heads out to explore the city.

  It’s not that Henwell doesn’t want to connect with the Groias Empire.

  It’s just that his current strength and territorial power only allow him to operate on a single front.

  Once he gets past this development phase, he might have the chance to py both sides.

  Then he’d have more chips to maneuver between the two and pull off some high-level moves.

  Because of his Padin status, even if he rejects the Empire’s offers, it won’t bring him any trouble.

  Over the next three days, Henwell wanders all over Lake Wheat City.

  It looks like he’s doing nothing, but the information he gathers lets him analyze a lot.

  By studying local prices, Henwell estimates the mobilization capacity of the Federation’s South Regions.

  From everyday goods to extraordinary materials, he gauges Lake Wheat City’s trade potential.

  Finally, Henwell pns to check out those so-called magical transport fleets.

  After leaving Lake Wheat City and heading south for several dozen miles, Henwell is still within the city-state’s jurisdiction.

  From a distance, he spots a roaring river.

  About six or seven hundred meters wide, this river—called the South Wheat River—is actually the source of the Ouse River within Peace Haven.

  What surprises Henwell is that there’s a massive bridge spanning this mighty river.

  The bridge is roughly fifty meters wide.

  On each side, there’s a ten-meter-wide ne. Northbound on the left, southbound on the right.

  The middle thirty meters form a grand avenue reserved for the elite, also separated by direction.

  But Henwell notices not every noble gets to use this central ne.

  He keenly senses it’s primarily for military use.

  At both ends of the bridge, there are checkpoints manned by soldiers.

  Also, there’s a military camp on each side.

  Just from a distance, Henwell can tell this is an elite force.

  Though they don’t participate in the bridge inspections, this two-thousand-strong unit can seal off the entire bridge in a critical moment.

  Henwell pulls out his binocurs and starts scrutinizing the bridge.

  Building a massive bridge spanning hundreds of meters is something only a handful of countries could achieve even in the tech age of his previous life.

  In this feudal, otherworldly era, relying solely on manpower and current productivity levels, it’s downright ughable.

  Even with concrete and steel reinforcements, a wealth of bridge-building knowledge, and a huge construction crew at his disposal, Henwell wouldn’t dare dream of erecting such a bridge over Peace Haven’s Ouse River, which is over four hundred meters wide, anytime soon.

  So this bridge fascinates him deeply.

  After long observation, Henwell spots several unusual features.

  First, the piers bear strange carvings, ornate patterns etched into the stone.

  The water around the piers is eerily still, like a dead pool.

  Then, the bridge material isn’t wood but stone.

  Yet Henwell sees no seams or joints between the stones.

  The entire bridge looks like one solid piece.

  At first gnce, Henwell even wonders if it’s poured concrete.

  Clearly, this bridge is a magical creation, not a human engineering feat.

  Henwell decides to head onto the bridge and experience it firsthand.