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"The Misty Plains?" Zachary blinked, his red beard bristling upward. "The Misty Plains is something bards invented to squeeze coins out of gullible audiences. You think you can feed me that and call it business? Not a chance."
"Believe it or not. Your call." Luo Wei shrugged.
"I don't believe it!" Zachary said flatly. "If a place like that actually existed, we in the Western Plains would've found it by now. Countless adventurers have searched and come back empty-handed. Why should I take your word for it?"
"The Misty Plains isn't somewhere just any Tom, Dick, or Harry can waltz into," Luo Wei said, casting him a brief glance. "And whether you believe me is honestly no concern of mine."
"Besides, with that attitude of yours, I don't think there's much room for a business conversation." She shook her head with a weary sigh. "What a waste of my time."
She turned and walked toward the door. "Patrick, let's go."
"Wait!" The moment she actually moved, Zachary's tone shifted entirely. "What business? What are you even here to discuss?"
Luo Wei stopped. "Didn't Mr. Bunian just say he didn't believe a word I said?" She tilted her head slightly. "Changed your mind already?"
Zachary pushed to his feet, his head nearly scraping the stone ceiling, beard puffing out with irritation. "I just want to see what other ridiculous nonsense a shameless person like you can come up with."
"I'm afraid you'll be disappointed, then," Luo Wei said, turning back to look at him with a half-smile. "Because what I'm about to say is the truth — about you."
Zachary's brow furrowed. "Stop dancing around it. Say what you have to say."
"Fine." Luo Wei's red lips curved. "Mr. Bunian, I want the soldiers you have."
His eyes sharpened. "Soldiers? I'm a slave merchant, not a lord. Where exactly would I get soldiers?"
"No? Then why are you in the slave trade at all?"
"To make money, obviously!"
"A Mystical Smith who can forge a single sword and pocket a thousand gold coins," Luo Wei said, a laugh slipping out despite herself, "stooping to selling slaves to earn a living. Mr. Bunian, you really are the first person I've met who'd undercut himself quite that thoroughly."
Zachary gave a cold snort. "I do what I like."
Luo Wei stepped up to the cell door, her gaze settling on him with quiet weight. "Let me guess, Mr. Bunian. The reason you're still so unbothered, even sitting in a cell — is it because you expect someone to come for you?"
Zachary's eyes flickered. He glared at her and said nothing.
"But you've been a prisoner for two months now. Why hasn't your rescue party arrived?"
Luo Wei covered her mouth, eyes wide with theatrical surprise. "Oh no. Could it be they've already given up on you?"
"Or," she added, her voice softening into something almost pitying, "there's someone above you, and you're only the deputy. Not really worth the trouble of saving."
Zachary's mustache twitched with contempt. "You've got quite the imagination, little one. Save it for the stage. It's wasted here."
Luo Wei lowered her hand, still smiling. "Don't be in such a hurry, Mr. Bunian. I haven't gotten to the third possibility yet."
"You built a significant force. In their eyes, you're the undisputed leader. And still, no one came." She spread her hands. "Why?"
"They don't dare. They can't afford to be exposed."
"But that's the strange part," she continued. "They're not rebels. They're not worshippers of some dark god. So why are they hiding?"
Something shifted in Zachary's expression. When he spoke again, his voice had gone quiet and flat. "I don't know what you're talking about, Miss Luo Wei. Your storytelling really is impressive."
"Maybe so." Luo Wei smiled. "Well. My story's finished. I think that's enough for today."
"Goodbye, Mr. Bunian." She turned and walked out without looking back. "Come find me when you've had time to think it over."
She left with Patrick. The stone door ground shut behind them, and the chamber fell back into silence.
Zachary stood hunched in the low room, his tall frame bent beneath the ceiling, eyes fixed on the direction she'd gone.
The Misty Plains. Was she actually a royal from the Misty Plains?
And if so , what was a Misty Plains royal doing in the Western Plains?
Claiming territory?
He'd told himself, over and over, that he didn't believe her. But the truth was, he couldn't come up with a single better explanation for any of it. Her story fit every piece.
It explained why he'd never once heard her name before. It explained why Demon Island had suddenly acquired an owner out of nowhere.
A conspiracy backed by an entire other continent.
...
She hadn't won Zachary over. But Luo Wei walked away without a trace of frustration.
Today's probing had done exactly what she needed. She now knew, with reasonable certainty, that he did have soldiers.
Prying his forces out of his hands was a different matter , and it wasn't what she actually wanted. Her ideal outcome was simpler: Zachary agreeing to help her recruit. He was a northern slave merchant. Nobody in the Western Plains would know better how to move and conceal a population.
Demon Island was still being built up from scratch. The God of the Dead had vanished somewhere with Stacy, leaving the island's defenses thin at best. Stockpiling troops and horses was something that needed to happen quietly, out of sight.
She was patient. She suspected it wouldn't take long before Zachary came to her first. His posture today had already cracked, just slightly. Agreement was a matter of time.
What she wanted was for him to be the one to suggest building her an army , and to fund it himself.
The sky had darkened by the time she stepped through the teleportation array and arrived back at the Star Luo Residence. She had plans with Herschel tonight, which meant she needed to get back to the academy.
Half a month ago, she'd handed Herschel two sheets of parchment. One carried a design for a helicopter rotor. The other held foundational physics formulas with her own annotations. Herschel had barely slept since, pouring herself into the work for over ten days straight. Yesterday, she'd tracked Luo Wei down and told her she'd built a scaled-down model and wanted her to come watch it fly.
Night had fully settled by the time the two of them climbed to the roof of Rose Castle.
Herschel set the model on the ground and activated the wind magic pattern. The blades on top spun into a blur, and the little aircraft lifted smoothly off the stone.
"Well?" Herschel asked. "The inside is hollow — it can carry cargo. The windows open. And I fitted a steering wheel at the front so you can control the direction."
"It's impressive," Luo Wei said, and meant it. "I didn't expect you to have a working model this fast. But tell me , is all the power coming from magic patterns?"
"It is. Magic patterns add no weight at all. If we used fuel instead, the whole thing would be far too heavy to get off the ground." Herschel paused. "Is that a problem?"
"The idea is sound. It's just..." Luo Wei hesitated. "If the aircraft runs entirely on magical elements, it won't make it across the ocean to the Misty Plains."
"Why not?"
"The mist belt." Luo Wei exhaled slowly. "It's a dead zone for magic , any spell, any enchantment, anything. The moment you enter it, everything stops working. And there are magic worms living in that fog. If there's even a crack in the hull, they'll find it. They'll strip a person to bone."
Herschel stared at her. "A magic-dead zone. And worms."
That explained it. That was why so many capable adventurers and mercenaries had simply vanished into the mist and never come back.
"The sea is horrifying."
"You see why I'm stuck here," Luo Wei said with a thin, rueful smile.
Herschel was quiet for a moment. Then, with quiet certainty: "Don't worry. When I make Mystical Smith Master, getting you home is the first thing I'll do."
Luo Wei looked at her and smiled. A real one.
"Then I'll wait."
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