News that the Bohr family was about to launch an attack on Pramisburg spread rapidly—such matters could not be hidden from anyone. Many people were waiting to gawk, eager to see Pramisburg become a laughingstock and how the young city lord would respond to the Bohr family’s offensive.

  Human thinking could be strangely irrational at times: five hundred knights daring to attack a former war fortress—how much courage, or lack of intelligence, did it take to make such a decision? This was a city, after all. Could five hundred men conquer it? Did Terman truly believe his five hundred knights were dragon riders? In Pramisburg, a city of nearly 300,000 people, even if each resident threw a single punch, those five hundred knights would be beaten beyond recognition.

  Yet despite the absurdity, many people genuinely believed this was a real possibility, which was laughable.

  "Terman Bohr is the current head of the Bohr family. Their city, Westflow City, has a total of 3,500 knights and 2,000 shield guards. I heard he’s only sending five hundred knights mainly to avoid leaving his rear defenses too empty by mobilizing too many war resources, for fear that other nobles might take advantage," said Salcomo. Despite his advanced age and the exhausting trips between Milin and Pramisburg, he pressed on. "So, how do you plan to deal with these five hundred knights?"

  Arno’s fingers tapped nimbly on the surface of the tea table, while his other hand supported his chin, his gaze unfocused. His attention was not here at all; those so-called five hundred knights were beneath his notice.

  As if awakened by Salcomo’s voice, his dilated pupils began to contract, and his eyes grew bright. He looked straight at Salcomo, meeting his gaze. "I currently have one hundred Black Fire Warriors, two hundred garrison guards, and the backbone of 300,000 people. I don’t know where Terman gets the courage to send five hundred trained knights to their deaths, and yet he—along with many of you—actually takes this seriously."

  "If this city could be conquered by just five hundred knights, the Byron Empire would never have withdrawn its troops. Not five hundred knights, not five thousand—they wouldn’t even be able to reach the city walls. Instead of worrying about fear, we should consider what compensation we should demand from that old fool Terman after we win."

  As he spoke, Celeste entered the study carrying a tray. Her eyes were fixed on the two cups of black tea on the tray, her steps tiny. She had taken this task from the maids herself; the two men inside were her future husband and her grandfather, and occasionally doing small chores like serving tea was no bother—they were family, and it only strengthened their bond.

  Watching Celeste clumsily place the two cups on the table, spilling a little from one of them, the girl lowered her head in shame.

  Both the old man and the young man paid no heed to such trivialities. Salcomo glanced at Celeste, who left the study consciously.

  "My concern isn’t about the battle itself," Salcomo continued. "I’m afraid that if you win too easily, it will make Terman furious and cause him to gamble everything, pulling out all his forces. I know this old man well; he’s more stubborn and paranoid than you can imagine. He would start a war over a trivial matter just to preserve the Bohr family’s dignity." Salcomo had dealings with the Bohr family during his time in Milin and knew that this family possessed an arrogance beyond ordinary comprehension.

  During the period when Orlando I rose up against the decadent Holy Empire, the Bohr family had dispatched their most precious shield guards to protect Orlando I, often receiving praise from him. This family was unable to break free from the glory of the past, believing themselves to be the saviors of the Orlando Empire. Although they had indeed played an important role and influenced the outcome of two wars, their pride had become a problematic obsession.

  Pride was a troublesome disease, spreading faster and more infectiously than any virus. Raised in an environment where the mantra "the Bohr family is the pillar of the empire" was drilled into them, members of the Bohr family like Terman were consumed by an inexplicable sense of superiority and arrogance.

  A proud person or a proud family was often a slave to their own paranoia.

  Once this "disease" flared up, they would ignore other considerations, such as the future and their own interests.

  Arno’s current strength was not enough to make Terman objectively assess the gap between them and analyze the situation rationally. It was like a rabbit kicking a lion in the face—the lion would not consider whether it could still run or catch the agile rabbit; it would only choose to attack furiously.

  Arno shook his head slightly. "Salcomo, President, please rest assured. Terman will not succeed."

  He was well aware that the reason everyone was not optimistic about Pramisburg stemmed from him. If he were a normal head of a Golden Family, Terman wouldn’t dare breathe a word of defiance. The current situation was, in simple terms, like a dragon stranded in shallow water being mocked by shrimp, or a tiger fallen to the plain being bullied by dogs. Arno had no army, no wealth, and Pramisburg was not a proper fortified city. At first glance, it seemed to have no military potential, which was why Terman dared to act against him, wanting to trample on the dignity of a Golden Noble to prove that the Bohr family’s glory had not faded.

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  This was an arrogant old man who overlooked the fact that military potential was often determined by the people who wielded it.

  Before Adolf became Chancellor, how many people had favored him? Before Germany’s swastika flag flew over all of Europe, who would have thought that tiny Germany could sweep across the continent?

  Mobilization and public speaking had always been among the most effective ways to increase the odds in war.

  Pramisburg had endured a long, harsh winter and finally ushered in the dawn. Now, someone wanted to cut off that dawn, blot out the sky, and plunge the city back into darkness. Just ask the indignant people outside the city lord’s mansion—did they want that?

  Arno would bet that the true strength of this "city of sin" was beyond anyone’s imagination. Eighty percent of its nearly 300,000 residents were able-bodied men and women, a number that was terrifying to consider! As long as the economy could sustain it, he could easily muster ten to twenty thousand fearless fighters.

  This was a city even the Light God had rejected!

  Salcomo considered his words. "What about the matters the merchant guild has agreed upon with you…"

  "Continue as planned!"

  The garrison captain was temporarily fulfilling the duties of the city defense army. Arno had originally intended to spare Joberg some face and wait for him and his advisors to assign an officer, but it seemed Joberg did not know when to back down. In the end, the city defense army had to be controlled by his own people. Since Cooper took office, Arno had strictly blocked all monopoly goods from flowing into Bell Province, causing the prices of many commodities to soar rapidly.

  The merchants, reaping enormous profits, were now crowding around Arno like hungry wolves. They had gained more profits, but this meant that nobles dealing in the same commodities had lost even more. Now, the merchant guild was in a difficult position: they had already offended the nobles, and if Arno fell, they would surely suffer. Therefore, they desperately hoped Arno would win this war and maintain the foundation of their cooperation, allowing merchants to continue monopolizing certain valuable commodities.

  The old man with the title of "Legendary Merchant" had been working himself to the bone recently, looking much more haggard than he had the previous year.

  "Deliver a batch of weapons as soon as possible. I don’t want my people to fight the heavily armed Bohr legions with hoes and pitchforks," Arno ordered in a commanding tone, tapping his index finger forcefully on the table. "And send five thousand gold coins. The people of Pramisburg can bleed for glory, but as their leader, I cannot let them shed tears."

  Five thousand gold coins… Salcomo calculated that when divided among the people, it would amount to only one or two hundred gold coins per person. Plus, with Arno’s rising popularity recently, those willing to contribute would probably fight over the opportunity.

  Salcomo, rushed to mobilize supplies from surrounding cities, left in a hurry without even greeting Celeste.

  And Arno, finally emerged into the public eye after the news of the Bohr family’s impending attack on Pramisburg spread.

  The streets outside the city lord’s mansion were packed with people, and even the roofs of the surrounding buildings were lined with "strings of people." The crowd looked anxiously and expectantly at the city lord emerging from the mansion, their eyes filled with anticipation.

  Arno looked at the dense sea of heads, raised his right hand high, and roared in a full, powerful voice: "Pramisburg will never yield! If he wants war, we’ll give him war!"

  With that roar, the previously calm Pramisburg erupted. Everyone raised their right hands, waving their arms like a forest, freely releasing the passion in their hearts—whether it was fear or anticipation. "War!" they shouted.

  The thick clouds in the sky seemed to be pierced by the inspiring shouts. A beam of sunlight broke through the pierced clouds, like a divine guidance, shining directly on Arno. He looked as if a god had descended, dazzling everyone’s eyes.

  Arno raised both hands, spreading his palms, and the volcanic scene of shouting suddenly quieted. His words, amplified by a magical sound-projection array, penetrated layer after layer of barriers and resounded throughout Pramisburg.

  "I have never feared war. My people, like me, will not fear war!" His calm expression moved many, and his low voice contained a bursting force. "We have endured pain, suffered injuries, waited for dawn in despair, and hoped in darkness! Now, someone wants to destroy our future with his ignorance. I stand here and ask you: do you agree to this?"

  "Are you afraid?"

  "Tell me, my people, are you willing to return to the old days—lives without purpose, without hope, living like walking corpses? Are you willing to let your wives and daughters lie beneath others for a mouthful of food, being humiliated as they are? Are you willing to tear your dignity to shreds and throw it to the ground for a few meager coppers?"

  "No, I am not willing. But what about you?"

  "Tell me—what reason is there to stop you from picking up weapons?"

  Looking at Arno’s fierce expression, every resident of Pramisburg fell silent, recalling their lives not long ago.

  There had been no hope. They would crawl out of bed before dawn every day, squatting by the roadside like goods to be selected for the heaviest, dirtiest work, yet earning the least pay. Their wives forced smiles and nestled in the arms of the wealthy, allowing dirty hands to grope over their bodies, to strip them of their clothes, and to vent their desires on them.

  In this city of despair, crime was a daily occurrence, and everyone lived in fear. When night fell, killing followed. Sometimes, a life was lost in a stinking alley for just a few dozen coppers.

  Now, look at them: this was a city filled with hope, a city where that god-like man had brought hope and good news to everyone. He was like an apostle of the Light God, letting sunlight fill the city and making everyone feel human again!

  Now, someone wanted to take away their hope, crush the dignity they had just regained, and plunge them back into dark despair!

  No!

  Arno slowly raised his right hand and clenched it into a fist, as if he intended to punch a hole through the sky!

  Countless raised hands clenched into fists as well, each pair of eyes burning with resolve.

  "War!"

  "WAR!!"